THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


RECOLLECTIONS     OF    THE 
IRISH    WAR 


(Photo  :  Claude  /turn's  1924  Ltd.) 
DARRELL    FIGGIS 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  THE 

IRISH    WAR 


DARRELL  FIGGIS 


GARDEN  CITY  NEW  YORK 

DOUBLEDAY,DORAN  &  COMPANY,  INC. 


DA 


PUBLISHER'S     NOTE 

DARRELL  FIGGIS  died  on  the  27th  of  Odober,  1925. 
The  manuscript  of  "  Recollections  of  the  Irish 
War"  was  written,  as  far  as  can  be  traced,  in  1921 
to  1922. 

The  book  gives  the  author's  personal  impressions  of 
those  outstanding  personalities  on  both  sides  of  the  Irish 
Channel  who  figured  as  protagonists  in  that  long  conflict 
for  Irish  Independence  from  the  founding  of  the  Irish 
Volunteers  in  1913  to  the  truce  in  July,  1921,  which  led  to 
the  establishment  of  the  Free  State  Government. 

Darrell  Figgis  himself  played  an  important  and  adven- 
turous part  in  these  events.  As  a  man  of  letters  and  a 
skilled  observer  of  affairs  he  was  peculiarly  fitted  to 
become  the  chronicler  of  this  remarkable  phase  in  Irish 
history. 


CONTENTS 
publisher's    note  v 


CHAPTER    III.        - 

Two  Fateful  Sundays 

CHAPTER    IV.         - 

The  European  War 


PACK 


CHAPTER    I.  -  -  .  ,j 

Arms  and  Men 

CHAPTER    II.  -  -  _  -  21 

German  Rifles 


40 


59 


CHAPTER    V.  -  -  _  -  82 

Easier  Week:    A  Chapter  in  Parenthesis 

CHAPTER    VI.  -  _  .  .       II2 

Easier  Week:    A  Chapter  in  Parenthesis 
(continued) 

CHAPTER    VII.       -  -  .  .  .       J., 

My  First  Arrest 

•  • 

Vll 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 


CHAPTER    VIII.    -----       172 

The  Whirlwind  Campaign,  1917-1918 

chapter  ix.  -  -  -  -     195 

The  "  German  Plot  "  and  its  Consequences 

chapter  x.  -  -  -  -     223 

The  Declaration  of  the  Republic  of  Ireland 

chapter  xi.  -  -  -  -     252 

Fencing  for  Position  in  the  War 

chapter  xii.     -----     282 

War 


vin 


RECOLLECTIONS     OF    THE 
IRISH     WAR 


CHAPTER  ONE 

ARMS   AND   MEN 

§i 


T*  VEN  in  Ireland,  folk  in  thinking  of  the  war  that 
J  ended  in  the  establishment  by  International  Treaty 


of  the  Free  State  go  back  no  further  than  the  Easier 
Rising  of  1916.  Little  wonder  that  this  way  of  thought 
should  prevail  outside  Ireland.  Life,  however,  does  not 
work  in  this  fashion.  History,  which  is  the  record  of  Life, 
reveals  a  far-reaching  series  of  connected  causes  and 
effects,  difficult  to  disconnect  into  the  trim  order  that 
the  unimaginative  mind  requires.  To  follow  any  part 
of  that  record,  from  whatever  personal  standpoint  it  be 
seen,  with  understanding  and  interest,  it  is  necessary, 
therefore,  briefly  to  note  the  framework  into  which  it 
is  set. 

The  Easter  Rising  of  191 6  reaches  back  through  two 
personalities  to  older  events.  Noble  minds  planned  that 
Rising  as  an  heroic  gesture  of  sacrifice.  Other  minds, 
not  less  noble,  held  aloof  because  they  saw  no  justification 
for  it  on  military  or  political  grounds.  But  of  them  all 
two  (one  on  each  side)  connected  that  event,  and  the  causes 
that  immediately  produced  it,  with  earlier  history.  These 
two  therefore  are  specially  significant. 

The  first  of  them  is  Arthur  Griffith.  He  held  aloof; 
but  he  took  the  Rising  back  to  the  fall  of  Parnell.     On 

B 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

him  the  creative  mantle  of  Parnell  fell  invisibly;  and 
none  saw  it  about  his  shoulders  till  nearly  the  end  of  his 
days.  There  is  an  ancient  tradition  that  to  eat  bitter 
fruit  is  to  cleanse  and  strengthen  the  vision;  and  there  is 
warrant  for  the  tradition  in  the  life  of  Arthur  Griffith. 
The  desertion  of  Parnell,  and  his  death,  were  bitter  fruit 
for  the  young  Griffith,  then  a  member  of  Parnell's 
organizing  committee;  and  to  the  end  of  his  days  one 
could  see  that  Griffith  was  wary  and  prepared  for  any 
disaster,  was  never  wholly  confident  of,  never  unre- 
servedly committed  to,  the  winds  that  blew  him  to  power. 
To  the  last  he  was  ready  to  turn  and  face  unpopularity; 
but  the  immediate  result  was  to  send  him  to  South  Africa, 
heart-sick,  disillusioned.  There,  and  in  that  mood,  he 
saw  that  if  the  Irish  people  were  to  be  strong  they  must 
look  for  salvation,  not  to  agencies  abroad,  but  to  con- 
structive, recreative  work  at  home.  Although  he  did  not 
believe  in  the  Tightness  of  the  Easter  Rising,  he  believed  in 
the  Tightness  of  physical  force  if  necessary  for  the  attain- 
ment of  freedom,  and  he  was  one  of  the  first  to  join 
the  Irish  Volunteers  in  1913.  Arthur  Griffith  was 
supremely  a  man  with  a  national  philosophy,  and  that 
philosophy  brought  down  from  the  days  of  Parnell's 
fall  a  stubborn  doctrine  of  self-reliance,  without  the 
teaching  of  which  it  is  not  easy  to  conceive  of  Easter 
Week. 

The  second  of  these  two  is  Tom  Clarke.  His  was, 
perhaps,  the  pure,  lineal  descent.  Tom  Clarke  had  him- 
self spent  over  fifteen  years  in  penal  servitude.  There, 
as  he  subsequently  wrote,  his  precept  was :  "  Clinch  your 
teeth  hard  and  never  say  die."    A  man  of  unconquerable 

2 


ARMS    AND    MEN 


mind,  he  took  the  Rising  back  to  the  Fenian  faith  of 
the  Sixties,  to  the  men  who  with  pikes  and  shot-guns, 
and  stubborn,  undefeated  faith,  went  out  on  the  snow- 
clad  hills  of  Tipperary  in  February,  1867,  to  fight  an 
empire.  From  the  moment  of  his  release  he  spent  his 
days  preparing  for  the  event  that  brought  his  life  to  a 
close.  He  took  no  part  in  political  movements,  judging 
them  to  be  deceptive  and  corruptive.  Knowing  the 
future  to  be  with  youth,  he  gathered  young  men  about 
him,  taught  them  his  simple  creed  of  an  ultimate  appeal 
to  arms,  and  waited  to  will  that  event  when  Time  should 
bring  it  to  his  hand. 

The  two  causes  are  seen  to  merge  in  one  when  it  is 
remembered  that  it  was  the  same  Fenian  faith  that  had 
given  Parnell  his  strength.  Thus  the  war  of  the  past 
few  years  is  folded  into,  becomes  part  of,  an  older,  larger 
pattern.  It  is  unnecessary  to  remember  this.  It  was 
impossible  to  have  taken  any  part  in  it  without  being 
perpetually  reminded  of  that  fact.  The  simplest,  ordin- 
ary committee-meeting  in  some  distant  country  town 
would  suddenly  be  brought  to  tensity  by  an  old  man 
rising  in  a  corner  and  giving  the  new  faith  his  blessing. 
What  that  meant  none  can  fully  appreciate  but  diose  who 
know  Irish  life  and  history,  for  in  that  blessing  continuity 
was  established  and  the  new  faith  was  confirmed  of  its 
antiquity  and  its  authority. 

All  this  is  true;  and  it  is  necessary  to  understand  it. 
Frequent,  unsuspected  reminders  of  it  will  shine  from 
the  most  casual  incidents  like  light  from  the  sides  of  a 
crystal.  Yet  it  is  also  true  that  the  new  war  was  a 
separate  phase  of  the  older  war.    It  flamed  to  a  height 

3 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

never  known  before,  and  became,  indeed,  a  beacon  to  the 
world.  It  had  its  own  character,  method,  and  associa- 
tions. It  had  its  own  men  and  women.  It  had  its  own 
distinct  psychology.  Indeed,  it  critically  changed  the 
whole  national  psychology,  bringing  a  new  breed  to  birth 
in  Ireland,  in  many  ways  obviously,  in  other  ways  subtly 
different  from  those  that  had  preceded.  And  in  the 
doing  of  these  things  it  had  its  own  beginning.  That 
beginning  was  not  the  Easter  Rising  of  1916,  but  the 
establishment  of  the  Irish  Volunteers  in  the  autumn 
of  1913. 

§2 

It  is  unnecessary  to  relate  in  any  detail  how  the  Irish 
Volunteers  first  came  into  being;  but  to  be  able  to 
follow  the  story  it  is  necessary  to  remember  the  main 
facts  of  their  foundation.  In  every  good  tale  the  end 
is  in  die  beginning,  and  life  is  a  tale-teller  of  acknow- 
ledged accomplishment. 

In  1913  the  Irish  people  had  long  forgotten  the  use 
of  arms.  They  had  been  well  schooled  for  a  generation 
not  to  think  outside  political  agitation.  For  many  years 
that  agitation  plucked  wry  fruit  for  the  nation;  and 
then  Griffith  with  Sinn  Fein,  and  Douglas  Hyde  with  the 
Gaelic  League,  had  turned  its  thoughts  to  prospect  of 
better  orchards  at  home.  Then  a  few  swift  turns  in 
political  events  in  England  changed  the  picture.  The 
political  agitation,  with  the  Parliamentary  Party  at  its 
head,  gathered  together  its  strength  again;  and  the 
coming  of  Home  Rule  seemed  to  justify  all  that  had  been 
hoped  of  it  or,  if  not  all,  certainly  a  measure  of  those 

4 


ARMS     AND     MEN 


hopes;  and  by  1913  expectation  had  learned  not  to  be  too 
ambitious. 

At  that  moment  the  nation  saw  a  great  Irishman  arise 
to  snatch  the  poor  measure  they  had  thought  within 
their  grasp.  The  manner  of  the  threat  was  what  sur- 
prised them  most.  The  success  of  Sir  Edward  Carson 
was  that  he  spun  his  ashplant  in  defiance  of  the  rules  of 
the  very  game  Irishmen  had  so  carefully  been  taught. 
Had  not  their  fathers  been  put  in  gaol  for  drilling  and 
arming  and  defying  the  Mother  of  Parliaments?  But 
now  here  was  he,  former  Law  Officer  of  the  Crown  and 
Privy  Councillor  to  boot,  exhorting  Irishmen  to  drill, 
pledging  himself  to  arm  them,  and  making  every  sound 
and  sign  of  calculated,  unmistakable  disrespect:  towards  the 
august  assembly  to  which  they  had  sent  their  representa- 
tives. Small  wonder  that  at  first  they  were  baffled  and 
angry,  but  they  recovered  slowly  yet  resentfully,  for  there 
were  some  to  help  the  recovery. 

It  was  for  just  such  an  hour  that  Tom  Clarke  had 
waited — he  and  his  band  of  young  men.  Patiently  he 
had  waited,  asking  nothing  for  himself,  prepared  to  pass 
on  to  another  generation  the  secret  sign  of  his  tradition, 
but  ready,  too,  if  necessary,  to  write  the  sign  publicly  with 
the  sacrifice  of  his  own  life.  Odd,  how  Life  transposes 
the  parts  men  think  to  play  on  the  world's  stage !  Little 
did  the  high  and  delicate  who  organized  armies  in  1913, 
and  spake  great  words,  and  breathed  threatenings, 
think  of  a  worn,  grey  man  in  a  little  tobacconist's  shop  off 
O'Connell  Street  who  was  waiting  for  the  opportunity 
they  gave  him  to  overturn  their  own  world.  They  would 
not  have  stepped  within  his  shop  to  buy  a  daily  paper 

5 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

or  a  packet  of  cigarettes.  Yet  it  was  for  them  he  was 
waiting.  And  it  was  they  who  brought  the  opportunity 
to  his  hand,  enabling  his  spirit  to  ride  the  storm  they 
had  awoken. 

The  impossible  had  come  to  pass.  Under  the  most 
august  patronage,  and  beneath  the  wing  of  an  un- 
impugnable  aristocracy,  Irishmen  could  now  enrol  them- 
selves in  armies,  and  drill  to  their  hearts'  content.  The 
plans  were  therefore  carefully  laid.  The  proposal  was 
made  to  Professor  Eoin  MacNeill  that  he  should  call  a 
meeting  at  the  Rotunda.  Eoin  MacNeill  was  Professor 
of  Ancient  Irish  History  at  the  National  University,  and 
Vice-President  of  the  Gaelic  League,  a  man  of  great 
erudition  and  one  of  the  leading  research  historians  of 
his  day.  In  many  ways  he  was  an  ideal  man  to  take  the 
ostensible  headship  of  the  new  movement.  His  integrity, 
the  respect  he  inspired,  his  very  touch  of  pedagogy 
(ancient  Irish  history,  too !),  gave  an  opportunity  for  the 
movement  to  gather  way  with  the  least  possible  friction, 
while  Tom  Clarke  continued  to  sell  unassuming  cigarettes 
and  still  more  unassuming  journals  that  ran  current 
among  a  few. 

So,  in  October,  1913,  a  Provisional  Committee  was 
formed,  from  which  a  declaration  of  policy  was  published, 
calling  a  public  meeting  for  the  25th  of  November,  "  to 
commence  the  enrolment  of  Irish  Volunteers."  The  hall 
held  7,000  people,  but  when  the  doors  were  closed,  there 
were  as  many  outside  as  within.  The  new  thought  from 
the  north  had  struck  a  responsive  note  in  the  south.  Un- 
questionably there  was  in  this  awakening  much  of  an 
answer  to  a  challenge  from  the  north;  but  this  the  leaders 

6 


ARMS    AND    MEN 

were  careful  to  remove.  Of  these  leaders  the  most  con- 
spicuous were  Eoin  MacNeill  and  Sir  Roger  Casement; 
and  both  these  men,  in  addressing  meetings  in  different 
parts  of  the  country,  insisted  always  that  the  Irish  Volun- 
teers were  in  no  sense  opponents,  that  they  were 
rather  comrades,  of  the  Ulster  Volunteers.  It  is  not 
surprising,  perhaps,  that  this  attitude  was  not  always 
readily  understood.  Yet  in  several  cities  when  cheers 
were  called  for  the  men  of  the  north  they  were  given 
heartily  enough,  and  a  new  spirit  was  evoked  that,  had 
it  been  met  with  a  like  spirit,  might  have  recast  all  the 
history  made  since  that  time. 

In  truth,  a  new  spirit  of  comradeship  had  been  created. 
With  however  awkward  an  enthusiasm  that  comradeship 
was  regarded  by  the  northern  exemplars,  it  was  quite 
genuinely  felt  in  many  southern  bosoms.  That  it  was 
also  felt  among  many  of  the  Ulster  Volunteers  can  also 
be  vouched  from  personal  knowledge.  And  in  the  south 
not  the  least  effect  was  that  many  who  had  kept  aloof 
from  the  not  very  savoury  business  that  politics  had 
become  were  now  enkindled  with  a  new  fire. 


§3 

Such,  in  briefest  outline,  was  the  beginning  of  the  new 
rising  wave  that  swept  forward  for  eight  years,  gathering 
strength,  volume,  and  unity  of  movement  till  it  included 
all  the  nation,  and  brought  the  Treaty  to  triumph — or, 
as  some  would  say,  till  it  broke  on  the  rock  of  the  Treaty. 
It  was  a  movement  of  youth,  long  overdue — youth,  long 
baffled  by  sober  age;  adventure,  long  thwarted  by  dis- 

7 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

cretion,  and  both  enkindled  by  the  material  ardour  with 
which  their  chance  came. 

Yet  it  is  not  history  (as  history)  I  am  telling,  for  the 
time  of  that  telling  is  not  yet.  My  purpose  is  rather  to 
gather  together,  before  they  are  losl:  in  or  falsely  coloured 
by  the  new  period  on  which  we  have  entered,  personal 
recollections  of  some  of  the  events  created  by  the  new 
movement,  with  memories  of  some  of  the  personalities 
who  figured  in  it.  In  order  to  do  this  it  is  necessary 
that  I  should  turn  aside  to  show  how  it  was  that  I  was 
gathered  into  the  new  movement. 

At  that  time  I  knew  little  of  movements  in  Dublin, 
and  I  had  few  political  friends.  Born  of  a  family 
traditionally  opposed  to  Nationalism,  I  had,  however, 
long  believed  in  Arthur  Griffith's  doctrine  of  national 
self-help,  known  as  Sinn  Fein.  In  common  with  many 
others,  then,  I  had  never  imagined  that  I  would  be  found 
in  politics.  My  thought  was  only  for  the  writer's  and  song- 
man's  craft,  and  it  was  partly  chance,  partly  the 
inescapable  obligation  of  honour,  that  brought  me  into 
touch  with  the  personalities  and  made  me  in  some  degree 
a  sharer  in  the  events  of  this  last  phase  of  the  Irish  War. 
Certainly  it  was  chance  that  threw  me  into  the  adventure 
by  which  guns  were  run  through  the  British  blockade  and 
landed  at  Howth,  and  the  Volunteers  in  this  way 
equipped  as  an  armed  force  for  the  future. 

At  that  time  I  was  resident  in  London,  but  for  some 
years  I  had  been  in  the  habit  of  spending  a  good  part  of 
each  winter  in  Achill,  an  island  in  the  Atlantic,  oft  the 
west  coast  of  Mayo.  There  I  bore  each  winter  the 
accumulations  of  taskwork  in  London;  and  a  busy  life 

8 


ARMS     AND     MEN 

had  robbed  from  a  wanderer,  whose  time  was  mortgaged 
to  necessity,  the  opportunity  of  other  than  the  most  casual 
friendships  even  in  his  own  native  city  of  Dublin. 

I  was  in  Achill  when  the  news  came  of  the  meeting 
in  the  Rotunda,  and  I  had  no  knowledge  other  than  the 
papers  told  of  what  the  news  might  mean.    Three  months 
previously  Dublin  had  been  the  seat  of  an  industrial  lock- 
out that  closed  the  months  of  summer  and  passed  into 
the  winter.     It  had  been  less  a  lock-out,  or  strike,  than 
a  bitter  war  between  worker  and  employer  that  included 
a  great  part  of  the  city.     Of  it  Jim  Larkin  had  been  the 
torchbearer  and  Jim  Connolly  the  mind.     At  the  height 
of  the  war  Captain  J.  R.  White  had  come  forward  with 
a  proposal  to  drill  a  workers'  army,  to  be  known  as  the 
Citizens'  Army.     Jim  Larkin  was  then  in  gaol,  and  Jim 
Connolly  supported  the  proposal  with  all  his  strength. 
It  is  strange  to  remember  now  (though  there  seems  to 
have  been  almost  a  conspiracy  to  forget  it)  that  the  actual 
decision   to   enrol   this   army   was   taken   in   a   fellow's 
chambers  in  Trinity  College,  unlikeliest  of  all  places  for 
the  quaintest  of  all  ironies.    At  that  meeting  some  of  the 
gravest  citizens  of  the  city  had  pulled  out  their  cheque- 
books to  contribute  for  the  establishment  of  this  drilled 
force — a  force  that  was  to  contribute  mightily  to  the 
Rising  of  Easter,  1916. 

At  that  meeting  I  had  been  present,  and  as  I  read  the 
news  from  Dublin  my  thoughts  naturally  returned  to  it. 
No  one  who  knew  Jim  Connolly,  or  had  read  his 
writings,  had  any  doubt  of  the  part  he  expected  such  a 
force  to  play  in  history.  Connolly  was  one  of  the  master 
intellects  of  the  Ireland  of  his  time,  and  a  convinced 

9 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

Nationalist  who  believed  that  all  the  great  movements  in 
Ireland  for  national  independence  had  been  seated  in 
causes  more  economic  than  political,  and  for  him  there- 
fore to  take  part  in  the  organization  of  a  Labour  Army 
meant  that  he  proposed  to  forge  a  weapon  for  future 
use.  In  conversation  he  said  little  of  this;  but  he  was 
a  man  who  could  make  his  silences  in  conversation  as 
significant  as  he  could  make  irony  eloquent  on  a  platform, 
and  there  was  no  doubt  as  to  his  meaning,  for  he  had 
long  nurtured  the  thought  of  an  armed  national  rising 
with  its  roots  in  labour. 

Yet  the  news  in  the  papers  definitely  precluded  a  labour 
interpretation.  In  the  first  place,  they  spoke  of  labour 
opposition  at  the  Rotunda  meeting,  and  in  the  second 
place  the  published  Manifesto  quite  clearly  indicated  a 
different  sort  of  force  from  the  existing  Citizen  Army. 
What  was,  at  any  rate,  clear,  whatever  else  was  dark  and 
strange,  was  that  a  revolutionary  change  had  occurred  or 
was  about  to  occur  in  Irish  affairs,  from  which  it  was  im- 
possible to  abstain. 

§4 

Therefore,  though  to  move  were  to  move  in  an  un- 
familiar world,  I  started  at  once  to  organize  Volunteers 
in  Achill.  It  is  difficult  to-day  to  realize  the  spirit  of 
that  time.  Irish  politics  had  long  become  (as  politics 
always  become)  a  close  corporation,  and  to  escape  from 
them  into  such  a  movement  was  like  breaking  into  fresh 
air.  I  knew  very  well  that  Volunteers  in  Achill  could 
never  prove  of  practical  value,  for  the  people  of  Achill 
live  in  great  part  by  migratory  labour,  the  little  patches 

10 


ARMS    AND    MEN 

ol  bogland  to  which  persecution  had  driven  them  being 
quite  insufficient  to  maintain  their  families,  and  out  of 
such  a  population  it  were  idle  to  expect  to  raise  a 
permanent  drilled  force.  To  begin  the  drilling  of 
youth  in  Achill,  therefore,  was  rather  an  instinct  than  a 
reasoned  plan — an  instinct  of  comradeship  and  comrade- 
liness  I  believe  I  can  truly  say — and  in  that  it  was  a 
symptom  of  what  occurred,  spontaneously  or  as  the 
result  of  prompting,  all  over  Ireland.  But  for  me  the 
result  was  that  it  brought  me  actively  into  touch  with 
some  of  the  leaders  of  the  movement  in  Dublin,  with 
consequences  that  drew  me  into  politics  in  spite  of  my 
determination  never  to  meddle  with  them. 

The  chief  of  the  leaders  with  whom  I  came  into 
contact  at  that  time  was  Eoin  MacNeill,  O'Rahilly,  and 
Sir  Roger  Casement.  Eoin  MacNeill  and  O'Rahilly  I 
had  known  well  before.  Roger  Casement  I  never  met 
till  then;  and  of  all  the  men  I  have  ever  met,  in  a  way- 
faring life,  men  of  every  sort  and  description,  I  have 
never  met  any  man  of  so  single  and  selfless  a  mind,  or 
of  so  natural  and  noble  a  gesture  of  soul,  as  he. 

At  that  time  the  thought  in  all  our  minds  was  how 
to  equip  the  Volunteers  with  arms.  If  it  were  right  to 
drill  men  it  was  essential  to  arm  them.  As  to  that 
everyone  was  agreed.  The  task  was  how  to  do  it.  As 
the  work  required  secrecy,  the  Provisional  Committee 
had  constituted  Eoin  MacNeill  and  O'Rahilly  a  special 
Arms  Sub-Committee,  with  powers  to  add  to  their 
number  and  to  draw  upon  the  Volunteer  treasury  with- 
out revealing  their  plans.  Yet  with  an  Arms  Act  in 
force,  writh  British  forces  in  possession  of,  and  British 

IT 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

gunboats  guarding,  the  coast,  with  detectives  watching 
every  movement  of  the  leaders,  and  with  all  letters 
examined  in  the  post,  the  task  was  obviously  one  of 
extraordinary  difficulty. 

During  the  early  months  of  1914  I  had  frequently 
discussed  this  problem  with  these  men.  O'Rahilly  was 
in  charge  of  the  actual  inquiries  with  certain  houses  on 
the  Continent,  and  as  I  lived  in  London,  where  mails 
(then)  were  not  examined,  we  arranged  that  these 
inquiries  should  pass  through  my  hands;  all  letters  to 
Dublin  being  sent  under  cover.  Yet  what  with  one 
difficulty  and  another,  one  preoccupation  and  another, 
April  came,  and  still  nothing  had  been  done  beyond  the 
gathering  of  information.  In  the  meantime  the  men 
were  becoming  restive  for  the  lack  of  arms — for  there 
is  nothing  to  which  the  Irishman  is  more  sensitive  than 
to  ridicule — and  to  drill  with  wooden  guns  was  to  offer 
oneself  as  a  target  for  ridicule. 

Then  the  political  situation  compelled  a  rapid  decision. 
For  an  attempt  was  made  by  the  politicians  to  capture 
the  movement;  and  the  only  way  to  save  it,  and  keep  it 
independent  (to  keep  it  in  existence  at  all,  in  fact),  seemed 
to  be — arms. 

§5 

During  the  early  months  of  1914  the  Volunteers  had 
spread  too  rapidly  through  the  country  for  them  to  be 
looked  upon  with  any  favour  by  the  older  political 
leaders.  Only  slowly  did  they  actually  learn  that  the 
bonds  of  their  control  had  been  loosened.  Preoccupied 
with  the  lobbies  of  Westminster,  they  had  omitted  to 

12 


ARMS     AND     MEN 

keep  in  touch  with  events  in  Ireland,  where  they  had 
been  trained  to  think  their  kingdom  was  secure.  I  had 
occasion  to  meet  John  Redmond  fairly  frequently  during 
these  months,  and  I  remember  what  seemed  to  me  the 
amazing  incredulity  with  which  he  heard  the  news  of 
the  spread  of  the  movement  that  to  me  had  become  a 
commonplace.  His  incredulity  was  as  incredible  to  me 
as  my  commonplaces  were  incredible  to  him,  and  nothing 
more  surely  convinced  me  than  those  meetings  of  the 
wrong  Irishmen  did  themselves,  as  well  as  did  their 
country,  by  absenting  themselves  from  home  to  attend 
a  Parliament  in  London. 

/et  one  could  perceive  the  political  leaders  were 
vaguely  apprehensive.  Their  thoughts  were  concen- 
trated on  London  lobbies,  where  a  difficult  battle  had 
to  be  fought,  but  their  instincts  were  alert  and  discom- 
forted. Human  nature  will  not  be  denied,  and  to  the 
minds  of  these  Masler  Builders  (whose  building  seemed 
so  near  completion)  there  came  the  ancient,  horrible  fear 
of  Youth  knocking  at  the  door.  Therefore,  while  they 
disbelieved  what  they  were  told,  they  planned  to  capture 
and  control  the  new  movement. 

Moreover,  there  was  another  consideration  in  their 
minds.  It  musl  Jv;  remembered  that  at  that  time  none 
doubted  that  within  a  few  months  Home  Rule  would 
begin  to  come  into  operation  with  the  transfer  of  services. 
And  John  Redmond  plainly  said  to  me  that  he  had  no 
intention  of  forming  a  new  government  with  so  incom- 
mensurable an  organization  in  the  field  in  dispute  of  his 
authority. 

In  Ireland,  therefore,  the  two  chief  political  organiza- 

13 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

tions,  the  United  Irish  League  and  the  Ancient  Order  of 
Hibernians,  were  warned;  and  the  new  movement  began 
to  encounter  suspicion  and  hostility  where  once  all  had 
gone  well.     Thus  the  problem  matured  that  had  been 
perceived  from  the  beginning.    With  great  wisdom  and 
skill  the  leaders  of  the  Volunteers  had,  during  these  early 
months,    avoided    all    suspicion    of    opposing    political 
organizations,  and  so  had  averted  their  hostility.     The 
fruits   of   the   political   crop   were,   apparently,   ripe  to 
harvest,  and   the  Volunteers  had  been  presented  as  a 
drilled   alternative   should   that  harvest  be   threatened. 
Indeed,  this  was  true  political  wisdom,  spoken  in  all 
sincerity  by  the  leaders  of  the  revolutionary  side  of  the 
movement,  such  as  Eoin  MacNeill  and  Roger  Casement. 
It  was  not  the  faith  of  revolutionaries  like  Tom  Clarke. 
But  both  were  agreed  that,  however  their  ends  might 
differ,  the  Volunteers,  to  be  an  effective  body,  must  be 
kept  as  a  separate  organization,  free  from  political  con- 
trol.    Otherwise  (it  was  argued)  they  would  cease  to  be 
a   drilled,   disciplined   force,   and  become  a  parade  of 
political  fustian,  neither  picturesque  nor  practical.     And 
now  this  danger,  long  foreseen  and  adroitly  averted,  be- 
came  a   continual   anxiety,   with   the   alternative   of   a 
disastrous  split. 

In  such  passes  the  natural  tendency  is  to  play  for 
time.  Early  in  the  year,  therefore,  I  had  been  desired  by 
Eoin  MacNeill  to  get  into  contact  with  John  Redmond, 
and  to  keep  the  issue  in  abeyance  as  long  as  possible.  I 
would  therefore  be  able  to  report  what  was  passing  in 
his  mind,  and  at  the  same  time  the  Volunteers  would 
have  time  to  strengthen  themselves  in  the  country.    It  is 

M 


ARMS    AND    MEN 


probable  that,  ultimately,  some  months  of  valuable  time 
were  gained  in  this  way;  but  in  April  it  became  necessary 
that  the  actual  leaders  should  themselves  come  to  London 
to  see  the  Parliamentary  men.  So  on  Thursday  Eoin 
MacNeill  and  Roger  Casement,  who  had  been  appointed 
for  that  purpose  by  the  Provisional  Committee,  travelled 
to  meet  John  Redmond,  John  Dillon,  and  Joseph  Devlin 
at  Westminster,  and  it  was  as  a  result  of  that  meeting 
that  the  decision  was  taken  to  proceed  without  delay  to 
the  arming  of  the  Volunteers. 

§6 

This  meeting  was  held  the  day  following,  and  on  Satur- 
day I  lunched  with  them  at  Mrs.  J.  R.  Green's  house 
in  Grosvenor  Road,  Westminster.  After  lunch  we  spoke 
of  their  meeting  the  previous  day,  and  discussed  the 
delicate  difficulty  that  lay  immediately  before  the  Vol- 
unteers, for  at  the  previous  day's  meeting  John  Redmond 
had  suggested  (what  he  later  formulated  as  a  demand) 
that  he  should  nominate  as  his  representatives  as  many 
members  to  the  Provisional  Committee  as  there  were 
members  already.1 

This,  then,  was  the  method  to  capture  or  split  the 
movement :  directly  to  attack  the  head  while  the  political 

1  Tom  Clarke,  according  to  his  rule,  was  not  a  member  of 
the  Provisional  Committee.  Padraic  Pearse  was  then  in  the 
United  States,  collecting  funds  for  his  school  at  St.  Enda's,  and 
at  the  Friday's  meeting  John  Redmond  had  complained  bitterly 
of  his  meetings  there  with  the  Clan  na  Gael  ("  my  hereditary 
enemies "). 

15 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

organizations  were  busy  through  the  country  seeking  to 
envelop  the  body.  If  this  suggestion  were  once  made  as 
a  public  demand  it  seemed  impossible  to  refuse  it,  yet 
not  to  refuse  it  would  be  to  alienate  the  Republican 
Brotherhood. 

There  seemed  but  one  way  to  save  the  position.  The 
Volunteers  wanted  arms.  Those  who  provided  arms 
would  control  the  force,  whoever  was  appointed  to  the 
Provisional  Committee.  Moreover,  if  the  Republican 
Brotherhood  knew  that  arms  were  actually  on  the  way 
they  might  accept  the  immediate  demand  as  inevitable, 
secure  in  the  knowledge  that  there  would  be  a  further 
inevitable  beyond  it,  when  the  existence  of  an  armed  force 
in  Ireland  would  bring  the  practical  control  into  their 
hands. 

I  therefore  had  asked  how  O'Rahilly  stood  in  this 
matter.  Eoin  MacNeill,  I  well  remember,  illustrated 
the  practical  difficulties  by  producing  from  his  pocket 
envelopes  of  letters,  that  had  been  opened  for  examination 
with  no  attempt  to  disguise  the  fact.  He  told  also  of 
the  detectives  who  followed  them  everywhere.  The 
movement  stood  in  daily  fear  of  proclamation,  and  with 
these  constant  nets  about  their  feet  how  was  it  possible 
to  proceed? 

Then  it  was  that  I  made  the  offer  that  was  to  change 
the  entire  course  of  my  life,  little  though  I  would  have 
believed  it  at  the  time.  Eoin  MacNeill  was  returning  to 
Dublin  that  night,  and  I  suggested  that  O'Rahilly  should 
come  over  some  day  early  the  following  week  and  bring 
with  him  all  the  information  he  had  collected,  all  the 
addresses  on  the  Continent,  together  with  all  the  money 

16 


ARMS    AND     MEN 

on  which  they  could  possibly  put  their  hands.  The  very 
night  of  his  arrival,  if  necessary,  I  would  leave  for  the 
Continent,  while  he  returned  to  Ireland.  I  would  use 
my  best  discretion  and  buy.  "  Let  us  buy  the  rifles,"  I 
said,  urging  my  point,  "  and  so  at  least  get  into  the 
problem.  Having  them  on  our  hands,  we  will  have  to 
land  them  somewhere  in  Ireland."  But  the  first  thing 
was  to  buy,  and  so  to  present  our  wits  with  a  problem  that 
they  would  have  to  answer.  As  I  could  move  freely 
where  they  could  not  I  offered  myself  for  the  making 
of  a  beginning. 

Never  while  I  live  will  my  eyes  forget  the  effect  of  my 
offer  on  one  of  the  company  present.  The  picture  is 
indelibly  written  to  the  last  detail. 

It  was  a  grey  afternoon.  The  windows  gave  on  to  the 
Thames,  and  against  the  grey  sky  the  warehouses  on  the 
southern  bank  were,  through  the  gathering  mist,  lined 
in  an  outline  of  darker  grey  and  black,  the  tall  chimneys 
uplifted  above  them.  The  tide  was  out,  and  beside  the 
distant  quayside  some  coal-barges  lay  tilted  on  the  sleek 
mud  of  the  river-bottom,  with  their  sides  washed  by 
the  silver  waters  that  raced  seaward. 

Against  this  picture,  looking  outward  before  the 
window-curtains,  stood  Roger  Casement,  a  figure  of  per- 
plexity, and  the  apparent  dejection  which  he  always  wore 
so  proudly,  as  though  he  had  assumed  the  sorrows  of 
the  world.  His  face  was  in  profile  to  me,  his  handsome 
head  and  noble  outline  cut  out  against  the  lattice-work 
of  the  curtain  and  the  grey  sky.  His  height  seemed  more 
than  usually  commanding,  his  black  hair  and  beard 
longer  than  usual.     His  left  leg  was  thrown  forward, 

17  c 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

and  the  boot  was  torn  in  a  great  hole — for  he  gave  his 
substance  away  always,  and  left  himself  thus  in  need,  he 
who  could  so  little  afford  to  take  these  risks  with  his 
health.  But  as  I  spoke  he  left  his  place  by  the  window 
and  came  forward  towards  me,  his  face  alight  with  battle. 
'  That's  talking,"  he  said,  throwing  his  hand  on  the 
table  between  us;  and  I  remember  the  whimsical  thought 
crossing  my  mind  that  language  had  wandered  far  from 
its  meanings  when  one  man  could  say  to  another  that 
he  was  talking,  when  his  appreciation  and  brevity 
betokened  an  end  of  talking. 

§7 

All  this,  it  must  be  remembered,  was  some  weeks  be- 
fore the  Larne  gun-running,  when,  on  the  24th  of  April, 
Carson  and  his  friends  ran  rifles  into  Ireland  past  the 
blockade  of  the  British  Fleet.  It  has  been  thought  that 
the  Howth  gun-running  was  a  direct  consequence  of 
the  success  at  Larne.  Actually  one  was  well  in  training 
when  the  other  occurred,  and  when  the  news  came  from 
Larne  we  were  delighted,  and  not  only  because  it  gave 
us  an  excellent  protection  for  the  task  at  which  we  were 
engaged. 

Before  we  left  Mrs.  Green's  that  evening  it  had  been 
agreed  that  I  should  act  on  my  offer.  Eoin  MacNeill  was 
not  at  first  quite  clear  as  to  beginning  without  seeing  the 
end.  His  mind  was  naturally  disinclined  from  this 
course  of  procedure,  and  wished  to  see  beginning  and 
end  together;  but  he  was  thoroughly  convinced  of  the 
necessity  of  immediate  action,  and  before  he  left  he 

18 


ARMS     AND     MEN 

formally  committed  die  direction  of  the  action  into  my 
hands,  as,  he  explained,  he  was  entitled  to  do  under  the 
powers  given  to  him  by  the  Provisional  Committee. 

In  order  to  ensure  absolute  secrecy  only  he,  Casement, 
and  O'Rahilly  were  to  know  of  my  name  in  the  matter 
until  the  rifles  had  actually  been  bought  and  landed.  I 
was  to  make  whatever  arrangements  I  decided  in  London, 
and  to  communicate  as  little  as  possible  with  Ireland, 
even  with  Eoin  MacNeill,  about  the  matter.  The  action, 
in  fact,  was  to  be  disengaged  as  completely  as  possible 
from  Ireland,  where  MacNeill  would  assume  general 
responsibility  with  the  Provisional  Committee.  In  case 
it  were  necessary  for  me  to  communicate  with  him  he  gave 
me  a  cover  under  which  to  write,  and  letters  to  me  were 
also  to  come  under  cover.  His  name  in  the  transaction 
was  always  to  be  John  Nelson,  and  mine  to  be  Edmund 
Farwell — a  name  suggested  by  Roger  Casement,  with 
some  recondite  meaning  which  he  promised  to  expound, 
but  which  I  forgot  to  ask  and  never  got.  Thus  I  would 
always  have  perfect  cover  under  which  to  work  while 
I  made  my  arrangements  in  London  and  on  the 
Continent.  As  for  the  arrangements  in  Ireland,  these 
were  to  be  in  O'Rahilly's  hands,  and  the  two  of  us  were 
to  discuss  the  manner  in  which  our  respective  plans  were 
to  interlock  when  he  came  to  London  the  following 
week. 

Then  we  left  Grosvenor  Road  and  walked  to  Case- 
ment's rooms  in  Knightsbridge  as  dusk  was  falling,  still 
talking  over  the  matter.  We  dined  that  night  in  some 
Italian  restaurant  opposite  Victoria  Tube  Station,  before 
going  on  to  Euston,  where  MacNeill  was  to  catch  the 

19 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

Irish  Mail.  Just  before  the  train  left  Tom  Kettle  joined 
us.  He  had  come  over  to  London  in  connection  with  the 
meeting  the  previous  day,  and  MacNeill  and  he  returned 
together. 

Roger  Casement  was  in  walking  mood,  and  the  two  of 
us  walked  to  Shaftesbury  Avenue,  till  I  left  him  to 
return  to  Hampstead,  where  I  then  lived.  It  seems  a 
momentous  night  in  my  years  as  I  look  back  on  it  now, 
with  all  that  was  to  flow  out  of  the  decision  taken  that 
day.  None  of  us  knew  the  future,  a  fortunate  fact,  no 
doubt.  The  action  on  which  I  had  entered  was  to 
achieve  world-publicity;  and  prominent  statesmen,  to 
mask  their  mature  plans,  were  to  attach  to  it  responsibility 
for  a  world-war.  But  that  night  it  seemed  that  it  would 
be  a  quiet  and  secret  affair.  It  would  be  an  affair  of 
some  risks,  to  be  sure,  but  it  would  be  an  honourable 
service,  with  a  joy  of  adventure;  and  after  it  were  over 
one  would  return  to  one's  notebooks  and  literary  projects. 
So  my  wife  and  I  thought  of  it,  as  we  discussed  it  that 
night — and  so  much  for  human  prevision. 


20 


T 


CHAPTER    TWO 

GERMAN   RIFLES 

§i 

^HE  supreme  difficulty  that  confronted  us  at  every 
turn  was  that  ours  was  a  poor  man's  movement. 
The  rich  did  not  smile  on  us,  nor  were  the  wealthy 
kind.  Even  while  one  began  to  put  together  the  separate 
pieces  of  one's  plan,  Sir  Edward  Carson,  unknown  to 
us,  was  maturing  (or  others  acting  for  him  were 
maturing)  his  own  scheme  for  just  such  a  project,  but 
where  he  was  clad  in  soft  raiment  we  were  lean  and 
naked,  and  where  rich  men  filled  his  coffers  we  had  to 
fare  by  our  wits.  It  made  a  woeful  difference — a  differ- 
ence that  antiquity  has  not  robbed  of  its  sting. 

I  was  faced  with  the  difficulty  in  London,  and 
O'Rahilly  was  faced  with  it  in  Ireland.  He  did  not, 
indeed,  come  to  London  for  a  further  fortnight  for  just 
this  very  reason.  Only  a  few  hundred  pounds  could  be 
collected  at  so  short  a  notice,  and  the  inadequacy  of  this 
sum  laughed  at  us.  In  the  meantime  he  sent  me  the 
address  of  a  firm  in  Hamburg,  and  I  arranged  with  them 
to  send  samples  of  two  rifles,  one  of  an  ancient  pattern, 
the  other  of  a  pattern  downright  antique,  to  a  firm  in 
Hounsditch  for  inspection. 

While  he  delayed  I  rehearsed  all  possible  plans,  that 
they  might  be  made  to  fit  to  the  plans  he  would  bring, 

21 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

and  it  was  always  at  that  point  of  juncture  they  failed. 
It  was  clear  that  whatever  money  could  be  gathered  to- 
gether would  barely  suffice  for  a  presentable  purchase 
of  arms.  Assuming  that  problem  answered,  and  the 
rifles  bought  and  ready  to  ship,  how  were  they  to  be 
brought  to  Ireland  for  delivery  where  O'Rahilly  arranged 
to  have  them?  To  charter  a  vessel  was  out  of  the 
question.  Our  more  fortunate,  if  a  little  uneasy,  comrades 
in  Ulster  were  at  that  very  moment  devising  just  so 
splendid  a  gesture;  but  gestures  of  this  sort  were  not  for 
our  humbler,  though  not  less  determined,  folk. 

Always  in  our  conversations,  therefore,  Roger  Case- 
ment and  I  returned  to  this  problem.  That  it  was  always 
present  in  his  mind  I  knew  by  the  fact  that  during  the 
first  week  a  number  of  persons  came  from  him  with 
plans  to  discuss.  Then  he  himself  said  that  the  daughter  of 
an  Irish  peer  had  offered  to  contrive  the  use  of  her  father's 
yacht,  but  she  herself  frankly  indicated  the  difficulties 
to  its  use.  The  boat  itself  was  not  suitable,  and  it  lay 
in  a  river  creek  near  a  police  barracks.  Its  removal  would 
certainly  be  noted  and  the  boat  marked.  It  was  there- 
fore decided  that  Casement  and  I  should  continue  our 
inquiries. 

Then  on  the  eve  of  his  leaving  for  Ireland  he  wrote 
saying  he  had  discovered  the  very  boat.  It  belonged  to 
Mr.  Erskine  Childers,  the  English  publicist  who  had 
written  a  book  on  Ireland,  and  who  was  ready  to  help. 
He  gave  me  his  address,  and  urged  me  to  see  him  without 
delay. 

On  receipt  of  this  letter  I  went  at  once  to  see  Mr. 
Childers  at  his  flat  in  Chelsea.      He  told  me  that  Case- 

22 


GERMAN    RIFLES 


ment  had  spoken  to  him  fully  concerning  our  project,  and 
that  he  was  willing  to  help  in  every  way  possible,  recog- 
nizing the  risks  that  were  involved,  and  the  necessity  for 
absolute  secrecy.  He  described  his  yacht,  and  said  that 
he  had  laid  it  at  the  end  of  the  previous  summer  at  (if 
I  remember  aright)  Criccieth,  in  North  Wales,  but  that 
it  could  easily  be  put  into  seaworthy  condition  at  very 
short  notice.  And  while  he  spoke  of  his  yacht,  which 
was  clearly  the  very  thing  for  which  we  had  been  look- 
ing, I  weighed  in  my  mind  a  number  of  balances  that 
had  nothing  whatever  to  do  with  yachts  at  all. 

For  I  had,  then  and  there,  either  to  invite  him  or  not; 
for  though  Casement  had,  it  seemed,  practically  invited 
him,  Casement  had  also  invited  others  who  had  come 
to  me,  and  I  had  found  it  necessary,  for  one  reason  or 
another,  to  set  them  to  work  that  was  not  intended  to 
come  to  anything.  Childers'  was  a  different  case.  He 
had  either  to  be  swallowed  whole  or  rejected  whole.  And 
the  balances,  as  I  weighed  them,  always  inclined  towards 
him,  quite  apart  from  the  matter  of  the  yacht,  which  was 
the  chief  cause  of  his  assistance  being  sought. 

It  then  seemed  to  me  strange,  for  example,  that  an 
Englishman1  should  desire  to  bear  these  risks  in  our 
service;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  his  position  in  England, 
his  social  connections,  his  influence  with  a  section  of  the 
Liberal  Party,  then  in  power,  were  safeguards  not  to  be 
thrown  lightly  aside.     I  knew  it  would  be  said  (as  it 

1  In  later  years  he  maintained  his  right  as  an  Irishman,  but 
at  that  time  none  of  us  thought  of  him  as  other  than  a  well- 
known  English  publicist  who  had  eloquently  and  learnedly 
espoused  our  case. 

23 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

very  quickly  was)  that  an  Englishman,  though  his  worth 
were  gold,  should  not  be  told  of  our  plans  against  his 
country;  but  then  Roger  Casement  had  already  told  him 
fully  of  them,  and  a  man  of  his  tradition  would  be  bound 
by  adding  responsibility  to  knowledge,  where  he  might 
not  regard  himself  bound  if  that  addition  were  not  made. 
Besides,  if  he  helped,  he  would  help  only  at  sea,  where 
he  was  a  yachtsman  of  known  skill,  and  where  his  services 
for  Great  Britain  had  been  such  that  he  would  hardly 
be  suspected  of  trafficking  with  those  who  wished  to  run 
guns  to  her  peril. 

So,  while  he  spoke,  I  weighed  these  things.  O'Rahilly 
was  expecting  to  come  any  day  now,  and  I  was  still 
unable  to  join  my  plans  to  his  where  the  sea  stretched 
between  us.  That  threw  the  last  consideration  in  the 
scale,  and  when  Mr.  Childers  had  finished  I  told  him 
my  plans.  My  proposal  was  to  distribute  my  responsi- 
bility to  a  selected  London  committee,  each  member  of 
which  would  take  charge  of  one  part  of  the  whole  action. 
Mrs.  Green  should  be  invited  to  give  her  great  name  and 
large  capacity  to  the  care  of  its  treasury,  to  collect,  re- 
ceive and  account  all  moneys.  Mr.  Childers  would  take 
charge  of  all  arrangements  for  the  shipment  of  our  little 
armoury.  And  I  would,  while  generally  responsible  for 
their  delivery  (a  responsibility  of  which  I  could  not  rid 
myself),  take  charge  of  their  purchase  and  of  their  de- 
livery on  to  Mr.  Childers'  yacht  wherever  we  should 
arrange  for  this  to  occur.  To  this  he  added  a  suggestion 
that  Mrs.  Childers  should  be  added  to  our  committee, 
as  the  channel  of  communication  when  we  would  be  at 
the  separate  ends  of  our  common  action. 

24 


GERMAN    RIFLES 

Without  delay  we  went  then  to  Mrs.  Green,  who 
agreed  to  act  as  treasurer.  Without  her  it  is  improbable 
that  we  could  have  brought  our  enterprise  to  an  end.  It 
was  she  who  in  great  part  covered  the  liabilities  incurred, 
until  they  should  be  met  by  donations,  promises,  and  the 
sale  of  the  guns  when  landed.  It  was  under  her  direction 
that  a  number  of  wage-earners  were  banded  together, 
each  one  of  whom,  out  of  her  or  his  poverty,  covered  a 
limited  share  of  that  liability  until  the  final  sale  to  the 
Volunteers,  risking  that  much  of  absolute  loss  if  the  enter- 
prise failed.  At  every  hour  of  the  day  and  night  she 
was  always  ready  to  lend  herself  and  her  resources  to  our 
hazardous  enterprise. 

§2 

Within  a  few  days  O'Rahilly  came.  I  met  him  in  the 
porch  of  the  Victoria  Hotel  in  Northumberland  Avenue. 
There  he  told  me  that  he  had  been  followed  from 
Ireland,  and  that  Dublin  detectives  were  even  at  that 
moment  waiting  outside  the  hotel  for  him.  But  London 
is  not  Dublin  in  the  matter  of  following  a  sleuth,  and 
that  night  he  slept  at  Hampstead  unknown  and  un- 
guarded. His  first  and  chief  anxiety  was  concerning 
Childers.  When  he  had  been  satisfied  in  that  regard, 
he  unfolded  his  part  of  the  plan  while  I  unfolded  ours. 
Briefly,  his  plan  consisted  of  a  number  of  secret  dumps 
around  the  southern  and  western  Irish  coast.  He  ex- 
plained that  at  each  of  these  dumps  the  yacht  would, 
during  June,  as  though  cruising  for  pleasure,  deliver 
agreed  lots  of  rifles  on  agreed  dates.  In  this  way  the 
difficulty  of  distribution  from  one  centre  in  Ireland  would 

25 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

be  avoided,  and  the  dumps  would  be  chosen  (several  of 
them,  he  said,  had  already  been  arranged)  for  speedy 
delivery  to  districts  where  it  was  known  that  companies 
were  ready  to  buy. 

I  was  not  happy  about  the  plan,  and,  when  we  dis- 
cussed it  at  a  meeting  of  our  committee  the  following 
morning,  neither  was  Childers.  The  risks  of  delivery  at 
ten  centres  seemed  a  hundred  times  greater  than  delivery 
at  one  centre.  But  the  plan  had  been  approved  in 
Ireland,  and  we  had  no  alternative  but  to  proceed  with 
our  part  of  the  enterprise.  The  rest  of  our  discussion 
turned  on  matters  of  finance,  since  it  was  imperative  that 
we  should  know  to  what  extent  we  could  commit  our- 
selves. 

Casement  was  now  back  in  London,  and  he  took 
Childers  and  myself  to  see  a  friend  of  his  in  St.  Mary 
Axe  who  was  agent  for  a  Belgian  armoury  firm.  In  the 
meantime  the  samples  had  arrived  from  Hamburg,  and 
one  of  them,  an  old  9  mm.  bore  Mauser  rifle,  seemed  the 
thing  for  our  purpose,  cheap  and  undeniably  effective — 
as  was  afterwards  proved.  Rifles  are  one  of  the  infernal 
inventions  of  man's  wit  —  the  prehistoric  caveman's 
hunger  and  battle  for  life  surviving  as  a  slayer's  lust  in 
the  finished  craftsmanship  of  machinery.  But  if  they  are 
to  be  used  it  is  right  that  they  be  effective,  and  our 
strange  love  (I  have  the  original  sample  yet)  would,  we 
decided,  be  effective — patiently  and  weightily  effective. 

Thus,  with  O'Rahilly's  information  and  our  own 
separate  inquiries,  I  was  now  ready  to  proceed  to  the 
Continent.  Childers  came  with  me.  We  went  first  to 
Liege,  to  the  armoury  firm  of  which  Roger  Casement's 

26 


GERMAN     RIFLES 


friend  was  agent.  While  day  dawned  we  sped  through 
flat  Belgian  fields,  where  roads  went  straight  into  the 
distance,  flanked  by  slender  poplars,  where  every  acre 
was  alive  with  green  cultivation,  chill  with  dew,  and 
clothed  with  the  golden  warmth  of  May,  but  where, 
presently,  armies  were  to  march  and  slaughter  reign,  in 
memory,  for  that  cockpit  of  Europe,  of  a  hundred  other 
armies  and  a  hundred  other  reigns  of  slaughter.  And 
we,  too,  as  we  sped,  went  to  buy  instruments  of  slaughter 
in  a  city  that  was  not  only  itself  an  ancient  cockpit  of 
war,  but  the  armoury  of  the  obsolete  and  obsolescent 
weapons  of  Europe,  where  poor  nations  came  to  buy  dis- 
carded toys  of  their  wealthy  brethren. 

Liege  merchants,  however,  could  not  help  us.  Their 
toys  were  pretty  but  too  expensive.  We  were  not  so 
foolish  as  to  refuse  them.  Baffled  sellers  have  other 
means  of  profit  in  such  forbidden  gear;  but  we  left  Liege 
that  night  knowing  well  that  its  merchandise  was  not 
for  our  purses. 

We  went  to  Hamburg,  a  city  beautiful  and  modernly 
ancient,  like  a  comely  matron  who  can  keep  her  place 
with  the  liveliest  of  youth.  We  lodged  at  a  pleasant 
little  hotel  opposite  the  railway  station,  and  after  our 
morning  coffee  we  went  a  few  hundred  yards  down  the 
same  Strasse  to  O'Rahilly's  firm  of  Michael  Magnus, 
Junior. 

It  was  a  wonderful  firm.  It  moved  my  admiration 
then,  and  has  never  ceased  to  move  it  since.  It  was  con- 
ducted by  two  brothers — Michael,  masterful  and  calm, 
and  his  elder  brother  Moritz,  expressive  and  expostulant. 
In  an  adventurous  life  I  had  not  suspected  the  existence 

27 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

of  such  persons.  A  few  months  later  Europe  was  to  be 
loud  with  claimants  for  the  honour  of  being  considered 
the  Friend  of  Small  Nationalities.  I  did  not  hear  my 
good  friends  Michael  and  Moritz  Magnus  then,  but  I 
thought  of  them.  For  here  they  were,  the  genuine 
Friends  of  Small  Nationalities,  professing  nothing  large, 
but  practising  their  faith  and  friendship  consistently, 
neglecting  fine  speeches  and  directing  their  attention  to 
good  deeds.  They  were  not  politicians  looking  to  fill 
their  sails  with  favourable  winds.  Practical  men,  rather, 
after  the  manner  of  their  compatriot  St.  Peter,  who  held 
that  faith  without  works  is  dead.  Therefore,  after  every 
war,  they  bought  armaments  of  all  sorts  from  neglected 
battlefields,  and  established  an  armoury  to  which  small 
nations  might  repair  for  the  righting  of  their  wrrngs, 
and  where  they  plied  their  faith,  through  good  repute 
and  bad,  in  the  brief  hope  of  immediate  reward. 

The  tokens  of  their  faith,  from  large  shell-cases  to 
small  pistols,  were  about  us  as  we  sat  in  their  upholstered 
room;  but  something  had  occurred  to  weaken  that  faith. 
That  was  evident  to  both  Childers  and  myself.  They 
had  the  article  we  needed;  we  had  the  small  tribute  they 
so  reasonably  required;  yet  the  two  brothers  constantly 
retired  to  consult  how  they  might  make  clear  to  us  that 
they  would  not  help.  As  a  matter  of  fact  they  both  spoke 
excellent  English,  but  we  found  a  curious  inability  to 
understand  them  when  they  came  to  rehearsals  of  that 
critical  sentence.  Oddly  enough,  we  even  sometimes 
understood  them  in  a  completely  opposite  sense,  and  so, 
baffled,  they  withdrew  again.  When  they  withdrew, 
Childers  expostulated  that  we  were  wasting  our  time, 

28 


GERMAN    RIFLES 


since  it  was  clear  they  would  not  sell,  whatever  the  cause 
might  be.  It  was  not  easy  to  make  clear  to  him  that, 
since  we  had  found  the  article  we  wanted,  if  we  were 
patient  enough,  and  bland  enough,  and  imperturbable 
enough,  nothing  could  prevent  us  getting  it.  The  great 
thing  was  to  husband  our  energy  so  as  not  to  be  the  first 
to  be  fatigued. 

Later  I  learned  the  cause  of  their  reluctance.  I  little 
thought  when  I  learned  it  how  strangely  I  should  after- 
wards remember  it,  when  the  whole  world  was  at  war. 
For,  a  few  weeks  before  this,  Carson  had  run  his  cargo 
of  rifles  at  Larne,  and  these  rifles  had  been  bought  in 
Hamburg.  Germany,  I  was  told,  believed  that  Britain 
was  looking  for  a  cause  of  war,  and  the  German  Govern- 
ment had  therefore  warned  all  firms  that  they  must  under 
no  circumstances  sell  arms  to  Ireland.  Another  affair 
such  as  Larne,  with  its  noise  and  alarm,  might  bring 
serious  consequences  that  Germany  was  anxious  to  avert. 
This,  be  it  remembered,  was  told  me  before  our  affair  at 
Howth,  and  two  months  before  the  European  war.  I 
thought  it  fantastic  then,  though  I  soon  had  cause  to 
know  that  the  fear  was  genuine. 

However,  at  the  time  I  knew  nothing  of  this.  We 
were  puzzled  but  bland,  immovably  fixed  in  their 
capacious  upholstery,  and  astonishingly  unintelligent. 
Then,  more  by  chance  than  through  good  wit,  I  let 
drop  that  we  desired  these  rifles  for  Mexico.  Mexico? 
The  two  brothers  looked  quickly  at  one  another  and 
withdrew  for  another  consultation.  Childers  complained 
that  no  one  in  their  senses  would  mistake  us  for  Mexicans, 
and  I  had  barely  answered  that  lies  like  this  were  not  told 

29 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

for  belief,  but  merely  to  give  the  other  side  a  reasonable 
excuse  for  agreement,  when  the  two  brothers  returned. 
They  were  very  cautious,  and  they  expressed  their  interest 
in  the  case  of  Mexico;  but  it  was  obvious  that  they  were 
now  in  quite  another  mood.  Their  caution  was  now  not 
reluctance,  but  a  wary  tread  towards  a  business  deal. 


§3 

We  entered  the  office  of  Magnus  at  9.20  in  the  morn- 
ing, and  it  was  after  12.30  before  we  had  bought  our 
rifles.  It  had  proved  an  unexpectedly  and  unreasonably 
stubborn  battle,  and  we  had  no  knowledge  of  the  cause  of 
the  difficulty  beyond  what  we  could  infer  from  the  catch- 
ing at  the  Mexican  straw.  It  was  therefore  necessary  to 
have  the  matter  in  writing.  I  drew  out  then  the  chief 
heads  of  a  memorandum  of  agreement.  After  lunch, 
when  Michael  Magnus  was  our  admirable  host,  we  con- 
tinued to  work  at  that  agreement  till  nearly  seven  that 
night,  when  we  exchanged  signed  copies,  subject  to  its 
revision  by  consent  on  the  morrow,  Whit-Saturday,  when 
we  were  to  return  home.  The  rifles,  we  were  told,  were 
warehoused  at  Liege,  and  Magnus  was  to  wire  me  within 
one  month  to  come  for  them — first  to  inspect  them  in 
detail  and  then  to  bear  them  away. 

That  night  Childers  stayed  to  examine  the  agreement 
while  I  went  to  the  opera.  No  amount  of  banter  could 
dissuade  him  from  an  examination  word  by  word  of  that 
agreement.  Yet  actually  it  was  worthless  as  a  legal  docu- 
ment. I  had  signed  it  as  Edmund  Farwell,  and  he  had 
signed  it  also  under  his  assumed  name.     Its  only  value 

30 


GERMAN    RIFLES 


was  for  its  effect  on  Magnus,  and  that  did  not  require 
every  comma  to  be  in  its  right  place.  Our  true  safe- 
guard was  in  our  banking  arrangements,  by  which  no 
money  would  be  released  till  a  mate's  receipt  had  been 
given  for  the  cargo.  Yet  when  I  came  down  to  coffee 
the  next  morning  Childers  was  still  worrying  over  that 
agreement,  seeking  for  verbal  perfection  where  we  had 
the  substance  of  what  we  wanted. 

The  following  day  we  returned  home.  Before  we  did 
so,  however,  we  went  with  Magnus  to  the  Director  of  the 
Deutsche  Bank  to  complete  our  banking  arrangements, 
and  to  a  shipping-house  to  charter  a  tug.  Here  we  met 
another  difficulty.  We  had  already  purchased  a  thousand 
rifles,  with  the  option  of  another  five  hundred  to  be  taken 
with  them,  and  this  committed  us  to  moneys  which  it 
was  doubtful  if  we  could  gather  in  the  time.  But  now 
an  extortionate  sum  of  ^300  was  demanded  for  a  tug 
down  the  river,  and  by  no  means  could  we  get  the  price 
lowered. 

Therefore  we  left  this  an  open  question,  and  the 
following  week  we  went  to  Antwerp  to  see  if  we  could 
better  the  price.  We  tried  three  houses  there,  and  at 
each  the  price  was  ^300.  Clearly  we  were  on  another's 
trail,  and  that  trail,  as  clearly,  was  Carson's.  So  at 
Antwerp,  seeing  that  we  were  not  to  do  business  there, 
we  were  simple  and  ingenuous  and  frank.  A  fleet  of 
Irish  trawlers,  we  said,  were  to  meet  the  tug  we  wanted, 
and  we  would  send  them  fuller  details  later.  I  have  been 
told,  in  such  a  way  as  to  believe  it,  that  all  Irish  trawlers 
were  watched  and  carefully  searched  for  some  time  after 
this.     Yachts  escaped  attention. 

31 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 


§4 

In  the  meantime  Mrs.  Green  had  her  organization  at 
work  for  the  collection  of  money,  and  on  our  return 
from  Antwerp,  while  I  awaited  the  telegram  from 
Magnus,  Childers  and  I  gave  our  attention  to  arrange- 
ments for  shipment  and  landing.  He  was  doubtful  if  his 
yacht  would  conveniently  carry  1,500  rifles,  if  we  found 
ourselves  able  to  take  the  other  500,  and  he  therefore 
proposed  that  he  should  ask  Conor  O'Brien,  whose  yacht 
was  only  slightly  smaller  than  his  own,  to  take  a  share  of 
our  cargo.  We  agreed  upon  this;  but  this  meant  that 
Childers,  when  on  his  way  to  Criccieth,  would  need  to 
continue  on  to  Dublin,  and,  while  there,  see  O'Rahilly. 

Then  Casement  wrote  saying  that  he  gravely  doubted 
the  wisdom  of  continuing  with  O'Rahilly,  who  was 
being  too  closely  followed  by  detectives.  Knowing  the 
trouble  O'Rahilly  had  taken  in  the  matter  since  the 
beginning  of  the  year,  I  was  averse  to  breaking  with  him. 
Moreover,  if  we  broke  with  him,  this  would  have  to  be 
done  unknown  to  him  in  order  to  leave  the  detectives  to 
follow  a  false  clue.  The  success  of  our  enterprise  would 
require  this;  but  no  one  could  have  taken  such  a  course 
with  a  man  so  loyal  and  loveable  as  O'Rahilly  without 
mean  thoughts  of  himself.  Childers  did  not  know 
O'Rahilly  and  did  not  share  my  feelings  in  the  matter; 
but  for  some  time  I  would  not  consent  until  Roger 
Casement  crossed  to  London  and  explained  that  a  change 
would  have  to  be  made.  At  that  time  I  was  waiting  for 
the  telegram  from  Magnus  while  struggling  with  arrears 

32 


GERMAN    RIFLES 

of  my  own  work.  Moreover,  about  this  time  Casement 
was  completing  his  arrangements  to  cross  to  America, 
and  was  due  to  leave  within  a  week.  We  therefore 
agreed  that  Childers  should  leave  for  Dublin  as  soon  as 
possible,  taking  letters  of  introduction  with  him  from 
Casement. 

Before  he  returned  (perhaps  before  he  left)  Casement 
had  gone,  as  I  remember  the  unpleasant  circumstances 
that  followed.  On  the  morning  of  his  return  I  met 
Childers  at  his  flat,  where  we  all  were  to  lunch.  To 
my  extreme  surprise  Childers  would  say  nothing,  but 
that  he  met  a  man  who  was  to  be  known  as  "  Dolan," 
with  whom  he  had  mp^  other  plans  which  he  was  not 
at  liberty  to  divulge.  I  asked  who  "  Dolan  "  was,  and 
he  claimed  confidence  there,  too.  The  situation  was 
awkward,  for  I  was  a  guest  in  his  house,  yet  with  a 
responsibility  of  which  I  could  not  rid  myself.  I  rose  to 
leave,  protesting  another  appointment  and  asked  him  to 
dine  with  me  at  my  club.  He  countered  me  by  the  offer 
of  his  club.  So  we  arranged  an  independent  meeting 
for  that  evening. 

I  was  greatly  distressed.  The  situation  was  as  un- 
pleasant as  it  could  be.  There  had  been  small  earlier 
causes  for  discontent,  but  our  common  responsibilities 
did  not  allow  of  their  entertainment.  This,  however, 
was  a  different  matter.  It  affected  not  one's  personal 
feelings  so  much  as  one's  responsibilities.  So,  as  we  sat 
in  a  tavern  in  Whitehall,  I  spoke  frankly,  and  said  that 
whereas  until  that  moment  we  had  been  two  good 
comrades  together,  I  had  now  to  remember  that  he  held 
his  trust  from  me,  whereas  I  held  it  from  those  who  were 

33  D 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

in  turn  my  chiefs.  I  had  no  intention  of  delivering  any 
rifles  into  his  yacht  until  I  knew  what  he  proposed  to  do 
with  them.  In  the  first  place,  I  wished  to  know  who 
"  Dolan  "  was;  in  the  second,  what  the  new  plan  was. 

Then  I  learned  that  "  Dolan  "  was  Bulmer  Hobson,  a 
member  of  the  Provisional  Committee;  and  that  the  plan 
was  to  hold  up  the  port  of  Howth,  near  Dublin,  and 
land  the  rifles  in  the  port  openly  in  broad  day,  avoiding 
all  the  dangers  and  difficulties  of  manoeuvres  at  night. 
Where  the  difficulty  had  been  I  could  not  perceive,  for 
the  name  carried  its  own  guarantee,  and  the  plan  was 
clearly  the  right  one.  It  had  the  simple  boldness  that 
attunes  and  tempers  the  blood.  Besides,  audacity  has 
always  been  its  own  best  protection,  since  it  is  never 
expected  and  robs  one's  foeman  of  the  initiative — a 
quality  beyond  price  in  manoeuvre. 

§5 
Within  a  few  days  of  this  Childers  left  for  Criccieth, 
and  I  left  shortly  afterwards  for  Liege  to  complete  the 
last  part  of  our  enterprise.  As  nearly  as  I  can  remember 
I  left  for  Liege  on  the  last  day  of  June,  and  as  I  was  to 
take  delivery  of  die  further  500  rifles,  and  to  purchase 
45,000  rounds  of  ammunition,  for  none  of  which  had  we 
made  banking  arrangements,  I  took  a  considerable  sum 
of  money  with  me.  My  appointment  was  to  meet 
Erskine  Childers  and  Conor  O'Brien  at  12  noon  at  the 
Roetigen  lightship  at  the  mouth  of  the  Scheldt  on  Sunday, 
the  1 2th  of  July.  This  would  leave  them  a  fortnight 
to  get  to  Ireland,  lest  they  fell  becalmed  in  July  weather. 

34 


GERMAN    RIFLES 

Childers  was  to  bring  1,000  rifles  into  Howth  Harbour 
punctually  at  12.45  on  Sunday  the  26th,  and  Conor 
O'Brien  was  to  land  500  at  Kilcoole,  Co.  Wicklow,  the 
night  before  to  distract  attention  southward.  My  wife 
was  to  hold  the  line  of  communication,  and  before 
Childers  left  Cowes  on  his  way  outward  we  were  to 
exchange  telegrams  through  my  wife  that  all  was  well 
on  each  side. 

At  Liege  my  troubles  began.  There  Moritz  Magnus 
was  in  charge,  and  though  he  was  the  kindest-hearted 
of  men,  the  most  expressive,  and  the  most  expostulant, 
he  was  not  the  most  efficient.  The  rifles  were  all  ready, 
and  had  each  to  be  inspected,  lock,  stock,  and  barrel,  but 
no  arrangements  had  been  made  for  packing  them  ready 
on  rail  for  Hamburg.  A  friend  of  mine  was  on  holiday 
in  Bruges,  and  I  wired  him  to  help  me  with  the  inspection 
while  I  installed  myself  as  foreman  of  works,  and 
negotiated  with  trade-union  officials  for  a  staff.  The 
result  was  the  oddest  collection  of  old  women  and  men 
diat  I  have  ever  been  blest  to  see.  The  days  were 
blistered  with  heat,  and  they  all  worked  stripped  to  the 
waist.  They  were  homely  people,  but  the  example  was 
one  I  quickly  followed,  and,  while  we  made  a  cheery 
and  emphatically  jocose  party  together,  we  got  the  work 
done.  As  the  guns  came  from  inspection  we  wrapped 
them  in  straw  and  tied  them  in  canvas,  twenty  apiece. 
And  so,  by  working  early  and  late,  we  managed  to  have 
the  whole  consignment  put  on  rail  for  Hamburg  by  Satur- 
day evening,  the  4th  of  July,  and  I  was  able  to  spend 
Sunday  peacefully  in  Cologne  and  hear  Beethoven's  Mass 
in  D  major  in  the  Cathedral. 

35 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

At  Hamburg  our  original  difficulty  took  a  new  and 
anxious  form.  On  returning  to  the  hotel  the  first, 
evening  I  was  informed  that  a  police  official  had  been 
making  inquiries.  This  did  not  of  itself  mean  anything, 
but  the  next  morning  Michael  Magnus  told  me  that  they 
had  been  warned.  Both  he  and  his  brother  consulted 
together  gravely.  It  was,  they  said  to  me,  a  serious 
matter  for  them,  for  they  could  not  act  against  their 
Government,  though  they  could  not  think  how  their 
Government  came  by  knowledge  of  our  deal.  I  was 
being  watched,  and  should  be  very  careful  of  my  move- 
ments. Fortunately,  it  did  not  appear  that  their  Govern- 
ment suspected  that  business  had  already  been  transacted. 
They  impressed  on  me  that  it  was  for  Mexico  I  wished 
the  rifles.  I  must  always,  they  said,  keep  that  to  the 
front.     England  had  no  interest  in  Mexico. 

These  were  anxious  days.  By  Wednesday  evening  I 
had  received  no  wire  from  Cowes;  my  wife  had  wired 
(in  code)  that  she  had  no  news,  the  bundles  of  rifles 
had  not  arrived  from  Liege,  no  ammunition  had 
appeared,  and  I  was  being  followed.  Yet  the  tug  had 
been  chartered  to  leave  at  eight  o'clock  on  Friday  evening. 

Lastly,  to  put  the  crown  on  trouble,  the  shippers  in- 
formed Magnus  that  the  port  regulations  required  that 
all  outgoing  cargoes  be  examined  and  certified  by  a 
Customs  Officer.  This  was  a  problem  that  none  of  us 
had  suspected,  and  it  seemed  insurmountable,  for  the 
shippers  were  a  firm  of  repute  and  could  not  afford 
evasion.  But  a  careful  examination  of  the  regulations 
revealed  that  a  pilot  could  act  as  Customs  Officer.  We 
decided  therefore  to  engage  a  pilot,  and  the  shippers 

36 


GERMAN    RIFLES 

undertook  to  discover  a  pilot  who  could  (failing  Mexican) 
speak  English,  and  who  would  have  other  suitable 
qualities.  As  for  the  skipper  and  his  crew,  these  had 
already  been  provided  for  in  advance. 

On  Thursday  I  received  my  wire  from  Cowes.  On 
Thursday  the  "  machine-parts  "  arrived  from  Liege.  But 
the  boxes  of  ammunition  did  not  arrive  in  Hamburg  till 
within  three  hours  of  our  time  for  casting-off  from  the 
quayside,  and  did  not  reach  the  quayside  till  nearly  seven 
o'clock.  Neither  anger  on  earth  nor  prayer  to  heaven 
hastened  their  delivery  till  the  last  point  of  exasperation. 
And  when  they  were  at  last  got  into  the  hold,  and  a  case 
here  and  there  opened  for  examination,  to  my  horror  I 
found  they  were  all  dum-dum.  No  matter.  I  would 
have  taken  explosive  bullets  then,  I  believe,  with  con- 
siderable relish. 

§6 

All  was  now  ready  for  the  pilot.  On  him,  and  on  the 
handling  of  him,  depended  everything.  I  do  not  believe 
I  have  ever  scanned  any  man's  face  so  anxiously,  yet  so 
guardedly,  for  signs  either  of  beneficence  or  of  corrupti- 
bility. Either  would  have  been  equally  suitable.  But 
he  was  a  grave  and  stern  man,  with  a  face  like  a  mask, 
out  of  the  mouth  of  which  dropped  a  very  big  pipe. 

I  was  introduced  to  him  by  the  skipper  as  a 
distinguished  Mexican,  and  I  realized  with  a  shock  that 
I  had  for  the  first  time  met  someone  who  believed  that 
I  was  a  Mexican.  For  the  two  had  spoken  in  German 
together.  Speaking  in  English  I  asked  him  if  he  spoke 
Mexican.      No,    he    did    not;    but    he    spoke    English. 

37 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

Excellent,  that  would  do  as  well.  He  smoked  a  cigar? 
He  slowed  his  pipe  in  his  pocket  and  lit  my  cigar.  He 
liked  it?  He  did,  and  said  twice,  emphatically,  that  the 
brand  was  good.  It  was  the  only  emphasis  I  had  as  yet 
got  out  of  him,  and  he  was  right,  the  cigar  was  good.  It 
had  been  chosen  for  him.  I  was  glad  to  have  found  a 
man  of  taste;  I  hoped  he  would  honour  me  by  accepting 
the  box  from  which  it  came.  He  took  the  box,  slowed 
it  under  his  arm,  and  shook  my  hand. 

So  he  smoked  in  the  cool  of  a  July  evening,  and  walked 
the  deck  of  the  tug  as  we  lay  amid  the  shipping  of  the 
port  of  Hamburg.  Then  I  told  him  that  unhappily  I 
was  not  very  well.  He  noted  the  fact  without  letting  the 
unfortunate  occurrence  disturb  his  enjoyment  of  his  cigar. 
What  time  would  we  reach  the  river  mouth?  At  about 
2.30  a.m.,  he  said.  At  that  hour,  unfortunately,  I  hoped 
to  be  sleeping  soundly  and  would  deny  myself  the 
courtesy  of  his  taking  leave.  He  would  permit  me,  there- 
fore, to  pay  his  fee  now  as  I  wished  at  once  to  turn  in? 

So  we  went  into  the  chart-room,  where  I  paid  him  his 
fee,  and  he  gave  me  his  receipt.  When  this  was  done 
I  quietly  passed  him  three  English  bank-notes.  His  blue 
eyes  looked  at  me  with  simple  wonderment.  This  was 
not  customary,  he  said.  We  had  come  to  the  critical 
moment.  Had  it  been  customary,  I  said,  it  would  not  be 
the  courtesy  I  intended.  It  was  thus  we  liked  to  conduct 
afTairs  in  my  country.  I  hoped  he  would  give  me  this 
pleasure.  He  put  the  notes  carefully  and  reflectively  in 
his  wallet. 

We  took  a  few  further  turns  on  the  deck  before  he 
went  down  to  examine  the  cargo.     I  walked  the  deck 

38 


GERMAN    RIFLES 

awaiting  his  return  in  an  anxiety  I  could  scarcely  contain. 
I  found  it  even  difficult  to  breathe,  and  only  by  steady 
pacing  could  I  control  myself,  for  it  would  never  do  to 
let  my  anxiety  reveal  itself.  Then  I  heard  him  coming 
up  the  ladder  from  the  hold.  He  walked  past  me,  and 
only  as  he  passed  me  did  he  turn  for  one  quick  moment 
and  look  at  me.  The  light  of  understanding  was  in 
his  eye. 

He  went  up  on  the  bridge  and  spoke  to  the  skipper. 
The  skipper  called  to  the  crew,  the  hawsers  were  cast  off, 
and  the  tug  began  to  make  way  down  the  river.  All 
was  well.  They  had  chosen  a  good  pilot,  who  was  also 
a  Customs  Officer. 


39 


CHAPTER  THREE 

TWO   FATEFUL   SUNDAYS 

§i 

UNDAY,  the  12th  of  July,  1914,  in  the  North  Sea 

•was  heavy  with  ochreous-golden  mist.     Our  world 

was  narrowed  to  within  a  few  cables'  length  of  the  tug, 

a  distance  across  which   heavy  surgeless  rollers  swept, 

leaving  the  tug  rocking  in  their  wake.     These  rollers 

emerged  from  the  mist,  smooth  and  burnished,  as  from 

some  distant  world,  lifted  the  tug  upon  them,  and,  while 

she  slid  down  their  sides,  they  rolled  away  into  the  mist, 

their  flanks  gleaming  in  the  dull,  golden  light  that  fell 

through   the    curtain   that   had   enveloped    us.      Not   a 

breath  of  wind  did  they  bring  with  them,  not  a  breath 

did  they  draw  after  them.    The  day  was  sultry  and  close, 

and  not  a  stir  of  air  visited  our  faces. 

From  the  moment  when  we  cleared  the  river  we  had 

made  only  half-speed,  and  about  ten  on  Sunday  morning 

we  lay  idly  rocking  among  the  rollers,  lest  we  should 

make  the  lightship  too  early.    It  was  important  that  we 

should  not  draw  the  attention  of  those  on  the  lightship,  and 

for  that  reason  the  heavy  mist  suited  us  well,  though  it 

gave  us  and  our  yachts  a  greater  difficulty  in  picking  up 

one  another.     Towards  noon  we  drifted  nearer,  till  the 

lightship  hove  in  sight,  and  then  we  lay  out  of  sight  to 

the  westward,  across  the  line  on  which  the  yachts  should 

come. 

40 


TWO    FATEFUL    SUNDAYS 

It  vras  not  till  2.30  that  a  yacht  was  called.  As  she 
bore  up  out  of  the  mis!  I  examined  her  through  my 
glasses,  but  though  she  was  painted  white  like  Childers' 
(O'Brien  s  being,  as  I  had  been  advised,  black),  she  was 
many  times  too  large,  and  carried  two  masts.  She  bore 
down  close  upon  us,  and  examined  us  so  carefully  as  she 
passed  that  she  left  us  greatly  wondering  who  she  might 
be  when  she  had  gone.  Then  we  waited  again,  rocking 
in  the  waves,  unnecessarily  anxious  as  the  hours  passed. 

Later  in  the  afternoon  the  mist  lifted  a  little,  widening 
our  world,  and  putting  silver  in  the  place  of  dull  gold. 
At  5.30  another  yacht  was  called.  She  was  like  what 
O'Brien's  should  have  been,  and  she  was  evidently  bear- 
ing towards  us;  but  I  had  never  met  Conor  O'Brien  and 
was  concerned  to  know  how  I  should  recognize  him. 
He  himself  quickly  settled  this,  however,  by  passing  us 
close,  and  hailing :  '  Is  that  the  boat  with  the  rifles  for 
the  Irish  Volunteers?"  or  some  words  of  the  like  sort 
equally  embarrassing  to  me,  beside  whom  the  skipper 
stood.  So  I  called  back  in  poor  Irish  asking  him  to  speak 
in  that  language,  and  I  was  greatly  relieved  to  hear  the 
skipper's  low  voice  asking  if  this  were  Mexican. 

The  hint  was  evidently  taken,  for  as  the  yacht  bore 
round  again  another  man  standing  beside  the  first  hailed 
me,  this  time  in  Irish.  This  was,  I  discovered  when  I 
made  my  way  on  board  the  yacht,  Dermot  CofTey,  and 
I  marvelled  at  the  odd  occurrence,  for  my  last  act  before 
leaving  London  had  been  to  send  a  review  of  an  historical 
book  of  his  to  a  London  journal.  Now  I  met  the  author 
for  the  first  time  in  this  fashion  in  the  North  Sea. 

Conor  O'Brien's  sister  and  the  two  men  comprised  the 

41 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

whole  crew,  and  without  delay  we  shipped  his  share  of 
rifles  on  board  his  yacht,  slowing  them  in  the  hold  he 
had  prepared  for  their  reception.  It  was  very  nearly 
eight  o'clock  before  we  finished,  and  hardly  had  we 
finished,  and  were  trimming  his  cargo,  when  another 
yacht  was  called. 

This  was  Erskine  Childers'.  One  yacht  succeeded  to 
the  other  with  singular  punctuality,  for  Childers  hardly 
had  time  to  greet  O'Brien  before  the  black  yacht  casl 
clear  and  lurched  into  the  gathering  dusk,  and  the  white 
yacht  took  its  place.  The  new  yacht,  however,  was 
larger,  and  it  had  a  greater  burden  to  carry,  though  I 
wondered,  as  I  looked  on  it  after  the  difficulty  we  had 
had  with  the  other,  where  the  cargo  was  to  be  put.  It  was 
manned  by  a  larger  crew.  In  addition  to  Childers,  there 
were  Mrs.  Childers,  Miss  Mary  Spring  Rice,  two  Donegal 
fishermen,  and  a  young  friend  of  Childers  who  was  intro- 
duced to  me  as  a  clerk  from  the  War  Office. 

With  a  crew  so  large  (and  so  various)  it  was  a  hard 
task  to  slow  the  cargo  and  leave  room  for  passengers. 
There  were  the  boxes  of  ammunition  as  well  as  the  rifles. 
Conor  O'Brien's  lot  was  to  be  landed  at  night  at  Kilcoole 
in  motor-boats,  and,  therefore,  we  had  slowed  it  in  the 
original  canvas  parcels.  Childers'  had  to  be  landed  on 
to  Howth  pier,  and  the  tug's  crew  therefore  slit  the  bags 
while  we  slowed  the  rifles.  We  began  the  work  at  about 
8.30  and  we  did  not  finish  until  about  1.30,  through  a  hot 
and  sultry  night.  By  the  time  we  had  finished  we  could 
not  but  pity  the  voyagers  on  the  yacht,  for  there  was  no 
place  to  eat  or  to  sleep  except  on  rifles  or  on  cartridge- 
boxes. 

42 


TWO    FATEFUL    SUNDAYS 

When  the  task  was  finished,  and  while  the  yacht's 
crew  trimmed  cargo,  we  took  her  in  tow  to  the  Straits 
of  Dover,  where  we  cast  loose  about  seven  in  the  morn- 
ing. She  went  on  then  down  the  Channel,  while  we 
made  for  Dover,  where  I  was  to  be  landed.  She  had  a 
fortnight  before  her,  and  she  had,  we  afterwards  learned, 
the  quiet  satisfaction  of  bearing  our  forbidden  cargo 
through  the  British  fleet  as  it  lay  in  review  at  Spithead, 
none  suspecting  what  she  bore  beneath  their  guns. 


§2 

I  waited  a  week  in  London,  in  an  attempt  to  pull  up 
arrears  of  my  own  work,  before  going  on  to  Dublin  for 
the  final  act.  For  my  trust  would  not  be  discharged  until 
the  munitions  had  actually  been  put  into  the  hands  of  the 
Volunteers. 

In  Dublin,  Bulmer  Hobson  was  in  charge.  Eoin 
MacNeill  told  me  that  O'Rahilly  knew  nothing  of  the 
new  plans,  and  I  therefore  avoided  him  guiltily.  The 
plans,  as  I  heard  them,  were  complete  and  elaborate.  It 
had  been  agreed  that  Childers  should  lie  up  on  the  far 
side  of  Lambay  Island,  off  Howth,  on  Saturday  night; 
and  I  was  to  go  out  to  him  there  that  night  on  a  motor- 
boat  from  Howth,  with  a  small  staff  that  would  be  told 
off  to  accompany  me.  In  the  meantime  two  other  motor- 
boats  were  to  come  up  the  coast  from  Kingstown  (now 
Dun  Laoghaire)  and  from  Bray.  While  the  yacht  bore  in 
towards  the  harbour,  the  three  motor-boats,  full  of  armed 
men,  were  to  cruise  about  the  narrowing  waters,  lest  any 

43 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

attempt  were  made  from  the  coastguard  station  at  Howth 
to  intercept  her. 

In  the  meantime  the  Volunteers  were  to  march  out 
from  Dublin.  On  the  previous  two  Sundays  they  had 
been  taken  on  route  marches,  and  had  on  each  occasion 
been  accompanied  by  a  posse  of  police — much  stronger 
on  the  first  than  on  the  second  occasion.  It  was  expected 
that  on  this  third  occasion  custom  would  have  staled  the 
adventure,  and  the  expectation  proved  correct,  for  the 
posse  on  the  critical  day  was  but  small.  The  Volunteers 
were  to  be  timed  to  arrive  a  few  minutes  ahead  of  the 
yacht,  to  hold  the  port,  receive  and  make  away  with  the 
munitions,  while  the  telephone  and  telegraph  were  cut 
so  as  to  dislocate  Howth  from  official  headquarters. 

The  only  matter  that  caused  us  concern  was  that  a 
gunboat  was  posted  in  Dublin  Bay,  which  could  very 
quickly  arrive  on  the  scene  to  disconcert  us.  But  in  the 
end  this  gunboat  was  lured  out  of  the  way  by  a  very  simple 
ruse.  For  at  this  time  Joseph  Devlin  and  the  political 
leaders  were  also  attempting  to  land  rifles;  Italian  rifles, 
as  they  proved,  of  an  old  pattern,  without  ammunition.  An 
attempt  had  already  been  made  somewhere  in  Wexford, 
but  it  had  been  foiled,  and  the  boat  bearing  the  guns  had 
not  come  in  from  neutral  waters.  On  the  Saturday 
evening,  therefore,  as  I  went  to  Howth,  I  sent  a  clumsily 
coded  telegram  to  a  certain  political  leader  making  an 
appointment  for  12  o'clock  that  night  at  Wexford,  and 
later  that  night  my  comrade  and  I  had  the  satisfaction  of 
seeing  the  gunboat  making  southward  under  full  steam, 
well  out  of  the  way  of  the  events  of  the  morrow. 

It  was  as  well,  for  our  plans  that  night  fell  to  pieces, 

44 


TWO    FATEFUL    SUNDAYS 

and  the  least  interference  from  sea  the  next  day  would 
have  brought  the  entire  enterprise  to  disaster.  That  Satur- 
day evening  a  fresh  wind  sprang  up  from  the  north-west, 
and  the  sea  was  bestrewn  with  "  the  white  blossoms  of  the 
ocean."  At  Howth  the  owner  of  the  motor-boat  said 
that  no  arrangements  had  been  made,  and  refused  to  take 
out  his  boat  on  such  a  night  for  any  madcap  fishing-party. 
No  persuasion  could  change  him,  so  we  had  to  dismiss 
our  party  and  make  our  way  back  to  Dublin. 

Sean  McGarry  had  been  in  charge  of  the  party,  and 
he  was  my  companion  for  that  night's  disappointments. 
At  Dublin  he  and  I  took  a  motor  to  Kingstown,  in  the 
hope  to  catch  the  party  there.  There  we  saw  the  gunboat 
making  south,  but  we  found  no  party  there,  and  met  the 
same  experience  as  at  Howth.  At  about  four  that  morn- 
ing, tired  and  disheartened,  we  turned  into  the  Marine 
Hotel  for  a  few  hours  sleep,  and  by  the  first  train  the  next 
morning  we  made  our  way  back  to  Howth.  There  we 
met  the  party  that  had  come  from  Bray,  but  the  boat 
had  been  so  battered  on  her  voyage  that  morning  that  the 
skipper  would  not  venture  to  sea  again  in  her.  So  Sean 
McGarry  posted  her  crew,  who  were  all  armed,  at  the 
base  of  the  north  pier,  to  head  off  any  attempt  of  the 
Coastguards  to  make  their  way  round  by  land. 

§3 

This  was  about  9.30  a.m.,  and  already  the  yacht  could 

occasionally  be  seen,  as  she  cruised  to  and  fro  on  the  yonder 

side  of  Lambay  Island.     I  wondered  what  Childers  was 

thinking  of  our  failure  to  keep  our  appointment,  and  we 

45 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

made  every  effort  to  get  even  a  fishing-boat  out  to  sea,  but 
without  success.  So  we  confined  ourselves  within  our 
arrangements  on  shore,  expecting  Childers  to  hold  to  his 
time  schedule  whatever  happened.  We  found  a  place 
for  the  yacht  to  berth,  near  the  end  of  the  south  pier, 
so  that,  when  her  cargo  was  clear,  she  might  easily  ship 
to  sea  again,  and  we  disposed  our  arrangements 
accordingly. 

Then  a  little  man,  with  a  back  like  a  ramrod,  flowing 
moustache,  and  steel-grey  eyes  as  clear  and  relentless  as 
a  sword-stroke,  stepped  up  to  me,  spoke  my  name,  and 
said  he  was  instructed  to  report  to  me  and  put  himself 
under  my  orders.  He  nodded  to  Sean  McGarry  at  my 
side,  and  said  he  had  fifty  men  with  him,  armed.  I  asked 
him  to  send  couriers  up  the  road  to  bring  me  word  of  the 
coming  of  the  Volunteers,  so  to  detail  his  men  that  at  a 
sign  every  person  on  the  pier  and  on  boats  in  the  harbour 
(the  pier  was  full  of  holiday-makers)  might  be  put  under 
temporary  arrest,  and  tell  off  others  to  keep  close  watch 
on  the  Coastguard  station  on  the  opposite  pier. 

This  was  Cathal  Brugha.  I  have  often  diought  how 
characteristic  was  that  first  meeting.  I  might  have  dropped 
from  the  clouds  (and,  in  truth,  very  largely  did)  for  all  he 
knew  of  me;  but  his  orders  were  to  put  himself  at  my 
disposal,  and  he  would  have  leapt  into  the  sea  and  swam 
to  the  yacht  if  required  to  do  so.  No  one  could  look  on 
that  man  without  perceiving  his  consuming,  terrific,  re- 
lentless courage.  He  was  a  born  fighter,  without  a 
crooked  patch  in  him;  a  sword  in  other  people's  hands, 
that  would  be  shattered  before  it  would  bend;  bonny  in 
battle,  and  the  greater  the  odds  the  bonnier;  and  un- 

46 


TWO    FATEFUL    SUNDAYS 

questioning  where  he  accepted  and  whom  he  accepted. 
One  felt  contented  to  know  that  he  and  his  fifty  men 
were  on  the  pier;  contented,  though  it  were  the  first  time 
one's  eyes  rested  on  him,  or  took  the  challenge  of  his  own. 

The  yacht  was  now  cruising  between  Lambay  and  the 
mainland,  tacking  to  the  north,  obviously,  so  as  to  make 
straight  into  the  harbour  under  the  nordi-westerly  wind 
on  one  long  south-westerly  course.  It  was  now  towards 
12.30,  and  still  there  was  not  a  sign  of  the  Volunteers  and 
no  news  from  our  couriers.  The  minutes  passed  on,  and 
the  strain  on  everyone  was  manifest  on  their  faces.  The 
Coastguards  on  the  opposite  pierhead  had  their  glasses 
trained  on  the  incoming  yacht,  at  the  helm  of  which,  for 
our  accepted  sign  that  all  was  well,  Mrs.  Childers  sat  in 
a  red  jersey;  and  it  is  probable  that  the  lady  at  the  helm 
deceived  die  Coastguards.  So  12.35  came,  and  then  12.40, 
and  still  there  was  no  sign  from  or  of  the  Volunteers.  The 
yacht  was  now  heaving  slowly  towards  us  with  her  sails 
shipped,  slapping  the  seas,  a  few  cables'  length  from  the 
pier-head,  and  our  men  were  taking  their  places  to  receive 
her. 

Then,  just  as  the  yacht  was  oft  the  pier-head,  I  heard 
Sean  McGarry  beside  me  say:  "Here  they  are;  look  at 
'em;  aren't  they  a  beautiful  sight?"  And  they  were  a 
beautiful  sight  as  they  filed  out  of  the  town  and  marched 
company  by  company,  across  the  road  at  the  base  of  the 
harbour.  There  was  beauty  in  their  movement,  and  there 
was  amazing  beauty  in  their  extreme  punctuality.  I  told 
off  an  orderly  to  ask  their  commandant  to  send  them  up  the 
pier,  company  by  company,  at  the  double,  and  signed  to 
Cathal  Brugha  to  make  his  arrests,  when  a  hawser  from 

47 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

the  yacht  fell  across  our  feet,  and  a  number  of  our  men, 
running  forward,  lashed  it  to  the  pier.  As  we  drew  the 
yacht  to  the  pierside  we  heard,  behind  and  beyond  us,  the 
solid  tramp  of  hundreds  of  feet,  as  the  Volunteers  came  up 
the  pier  at  the  double,  and  sharp  words  of  command  as 
they  were  halted  and  lined  in  two  ranks  down  the  long 
length  of  the  pier. 

It  was  not  long  till  the  rifles  were  brought  out  and 
passed  to  the  Volunteers.  Then  a  Strange  sight  was  seen, 
revealing  to  every  doubter,  and  even  to  us  who  never 
doubted,  what  ancient  national  hopes  were  in  the  nurture 
of  each  man's  blood.  Seasoned  men  broke  into  tears 
when  the  first  rifle  was  handed  up  out  of  the  hold,  and 
the  ranks  were  broken  by  the  rush  towards  the  yacht. 
When  order  was  restored,  the  command  was  given  that 
each  rifle  should  be  handed  down  to  the  end  of  the 
column,  but  as  each  man  received  his  rifle  he  put  his  foot 
upon  it  and  passed  the  next  down. 

While  this  was  being  done  the  cry  was  suddenly  raised 
that  a  boat-load  of  Coastguards  had  crept  round  beneath 
the  lea  of  the  yachts  in  the  harbour,  and  had  just  reached 
the  open  space  of  water  that  lay  around  our  own  yacht. 
Instantly  a  number  of  men  lined  along  the  yacht,  with 
their  rifles  trained  on  the  approaching  boat.  Challenged 
to  slop  and  return,  the  Coastguards  did  so.  In  none  of 
these  rifles,  however,  was  there  a  cartridge — though  there 
were  revolvers  ready  for  action  if  the  need  arose. 

That  was  the  only  attempt  to  interfere,  for,  after  this, 
the  Coastguards  were  content  to  signal,  by  rocket,  for  a 
gunboat  that  was  no  longer  there.  The  boxes  of  ammuni- 
tion were  at  once  taken  away  by  motor;  and  the  yacht 

48 


TWO    FATEFUL    SUNDAYS 

unloaded,    the    Volunteers    took    the    road,    rifle    over 
shoulder,  for  a  public  march  into  Dublin. 

§4 

My  task  was  done,  and  I  went  into  the  hotel  at  Howth 
with  Eoin  MacNeill  to  render  account.  Before  I  went, 
however,  O'Rahilly  came  to  me  eager  and  enthusiastic, 
and  I  explained  to  him  the  shabby  trick  necessity  had 
compelled  us  to  play  on  him.  But  he  would  not  hear 
of  apology.  Clean,  generous  man  that  he  was  always, 
all  that  had  been  done  had  been  rightly  done,  he  said, 
for  it  had  come  to  a  right  conclusion. 

Unhappily,  as  it  proved,  we  had  not  yet  made  a  con- 
clusion. After  we  had  lunched,  Eoin  MacNeill  took  me 
with  him  in  his  car  to  pick  up  the  column  as  it  made  its 
way  to  Dublin.  We  found  them  on  the  road  resting,  and 
there  we  met  Sean  MacDiarmada,  anxious  at  the  critical 
time  being  wasted.  He  started  the  column  again  in 
motion,  and  we  joined  him  in  his  car,  moving  continu- 
ously between  the  head  of  the  column  and  Nelson's 
Pillar  as  the  column  approached  Dublin  and  our  journey 
to  and  fro  continually  shortened.  We  were  troubled  lest 
troops  should  be  called  out. 

On  our  last  journey  Eoin  MacNeill  stepped  off  at  the 
Pillar,  for  the  head  of  the  column  was  now  within  a 
quarter  of  a  mile,  or  thereabouts,  and  all  seemed  clear. 
But  as  we  turned  back  through  Earl  Street  a  man  ran 
up  to  me,  where  I  sat  beside  the  driver,  and  said  that  two 
tram-loads  of  troops  with  police  had  just  passed  down 
Abbey  Street  to  meet  the  advancing  column.     We  raced 

49  E 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

back  to  the  head  of  the  column,  and  as  we  reached  the 
Howth  Road,  down  which  the  column  was  advancing,  we 
overtook  the  troops  that  had  just  dismounted  there. 
Actually  our  car  made  its  way  through  them,  and  they,  not 
knowing  who  we  were,  stood  aside  for  us  to  let  us  through. 

So  behind  us  the  troops  (the  King's  Own  Scottish 
Borderers,  with  accompanying  Dublin  Metropolitan 
Police)  blocked  the  end  of  the  road,  while  in  the 
distance  we  could  see  the  Volunteers  marching  towards 
us  as  we  raced  towards  them.  A  conflict  seemed  un- 
avoidable. When  we  reached  the  head  of  the  column 
the  military  commandant  for  the  day  could  not  be 
found,  and  in  the  general  indecision  the  column  con- 
tinued on  its  way.  Those  at  the  head  of  the  column, 
seeing  the  end  of  Howth  Road  barred  by  a  double  rank 
of  bayonets,  turned  to  the  right  down  Marino  Crescent 
into  the  Malahide  Road  that  runs  parallel  with  the  Howth 
Road.  At  once  we  saw  the  military  break  and  turn  at 
the  double  down  the  tram  road  so  as  to  confront  the 
column  again.  Directly  this  happened  several  urged  that 
the  rest  of  the  column  should  continue  down  the  Howth 
Road,  in  order  to  surround  the  military  on  both  sides, 
hoping  thus  to  hem  them  in  while  the  main  body  of  the 
men  made  their  way  into  the  city.  Had  this  been  done 
the  situation  would  have  been  entirely  changed.  The 
military  would  have  been  confined  and  restricted  instead 
of,  as  happened,  the  Volunteers.  But  in  the  absence  of 
any  kind  of  direction  or  command  all  was  confusion;  the 
situation  was  left  to  itself,  and  no  clear  decision  seemed 
possible  just  when  it  was  most  needed. 

So  a  small  knot  of  us,  including  Sean  MacDiarmada, 

50 


TWO    FATEFUL    SUNDAYS 

Bulmer  Hobson,  and  myself,  hurried  after  the  head  of  the 
column,  that  was  already  confronted  by  the  military,  again 
barring  the  road.  Then,  after  a  time  of  deadlock  and 
indecision  someone  in  civilian  attire  (whom  I  afterwards 
learned  to  be  David  Harrel,  the  Assistant  Commissioner 
of  Police)  Stepped  forward  into  the  open  road  between  the 
two  forces  and  asked  to  know  who  was  in  command  of 
the  Volunteers.  Twice  he  asked  the  question  and  no  one 
answered.  The  others  were,  of  course,  preserving  order 
in  the  ranks;  but  the  situation  was  a  little  tense — a  little 
awkward — when  finally  I  Stepped  out  to  meet  him  and 
assumed  authority. 

My  authority  had  ended  at  Howth  Pier,  but  it  was 
necessary  that  someone  should  answer.  So,  not  knowing 
who  might  come  to  dispute  my  assumption  with  me,  I 
endeavoured  to  keep  within  my  expired  authority.  I  told 
him  that  to  march  with  rifles  through  an  Irish  city  was 
not  illegal,  seeing  that  such  a  march  had  been  permitted 
die  Sunday  before  in  Belfast.  City  with  the  Ulsler  Volun- 
teers. The  only  offence  of  the  day  had  been  the  illegal 
landing,  and  for  that  I  took  entire  responsibility.  I  offered 
myself  for  arrest,  on  condition  that  the  men  should  pro- 
ceed on  their  way,  since  the  right  that  had  been  allowed 
in  one  Irish  city  clearly  could  not,  a  week  later,  become 
an  offence  in  anodier  Irish  city. 

§5 

During  this  conversation  Bulmer  Hobson  joined  me, 
but,  as  I  remember,  left  before  it  was  over.  Mr.  Harrel 
peremptorily  demanded  the  surrender  of  our  rifles.     I 

51 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

would  not  move  from  my  point  of  legality  and  allowance, 
and,  after  we  had  each  thrown  warnings  at  each  other, 
the  conversation  was  ended  by  his  slating  that  he  intended 
to  seize  the  rifles  and  by  his  ordering  the  police  to  that 
task.  I  stepped  back  and  stood  with  the  first:  company 
in  the  tussle  that  followed. 

Our  men  were  without  ammunition  and  used  their  new 
rifles  as  clubs,  some,  including  myself,  being  armed  with 
heavy  ashen  truncheons  as  well.  It  was  thus  truncheon 
and  helmet  against  truncheon  and  club,  deft  duckings 
and  lusty  layings-on.  In  an  effort  to  come  to  the  rescue 
of  one  of  our  men  (a  little  fellow  who  was  being  swung 
like  a  pendulum  by  a  huge  policeman  at  the  end  of  his 
rifle,  to  which  he  manfully  clung)  I  was  borne  to  the 
ground  by  two  policemen,  who  belaboured  my  head  with 
their  truncheons.  Half  dazed  for  the  moment,  I  was 
captured — when  I  found  myself  seized  by  one  of  the 
police  themselves  and  pushed  back  to  my  place  beside  the 
head  of  the  column,  with  a  whispered  adjuration  (to  my 
sore  head)  to  "  keep  to  the  thinking  and  leave  the  fighting 
alone."1 

The  first  attack  failed.  The  police  were  thrown  back 
in  confusion.  But  our  first  company  was  also  thrown  into 
confusion,  and  it  was  necessary  to  clear  their  confused 
ranks  out  of  the  way  in  order  to  meet  the  new  attack 
with  the  second  company.    For  now  the  Borderers  were 

1  That  day,  a  year  later,  the  same  policeman,  in  private 
clothes,  warned  a  friend  and  myself  that  we  were  being  followed 
by  detectives.  And  that  day,  three  years  later,  the  same  police- 
man, having  by  then  retired  from  the  force,  and  myself  were 
organizing  Sinn  Fein  clubs  and  Volunteer  companies  in  the  West. 

52 


TWO    FATEFUL    SUNDAYS 

ordered  to  a  bayonet  attack,  and  I  have  no  doubt  many 
another  of  our  line  beside  me  experienced  ugly  qualms  and 
desperate  promptings  at  the  sight  of  a  line  of  steel  borne 
towards  us,  not  with  fine  abandon,  but  at  a  thoughtful, 
thought-begetting  slow  march.  Little  wonder  that  some 
of  our  men  pulled  out  revolvers  and  began  to  fire  and  that 
the  ranks  broke.  Yet  the  fight  was  held.  Give  the 
Borderers  their  due,  they  fought  with  no  enthusiasm,  and 
when  they  heard  the  firing,  and  when  some  of  their  men 
fell  with  bullet  wounds,  their  ranks  broke  also.  If  the 
steel  was  unpleasant,  so  was  the  sound  of  shooting.  In 
the  encounter  that  followed  men  fell  on  each  side — the 
Commandant  of  the  company,  standing  beside  me,  re- 
ceiving, without  an  effort  to  move  or  defend  himself, 
bayonet  lunges  between  the  arm  and  body  that  were  not 
nice  to  see.  The  fighting  was  broken,  desperate  and  con- 
fused, but  in  the  end  the  Borderers  also  were  thrown 
back. 

§6 

Then  Mr.  Harrel  came  forward  again,  desiring  further 
parley.  Swiftly  a,  plan  came  into  my  head.  I  pointed 
to  the  ugly  sights  on  the  road  and  refused  to  parley 
there.  If  he  would  go  to  one  of  the  gardens  of  the 
houses  near  which  we  stood,  I  would  follow  him.  In 
the  meantime  I  would  restrain  our  men  if  he  would 
restrain  his.  When  he  was  gone  I  turned  to  the  Comman- 
dant of  the  third  company,  a  resolute  steady  man,  told  him 
to  extend  his  men  across  the  road,  so  as  to  mask  all  that 
passed  behind  him,  and  to  send  runners  down  the 
column  at  once,  telling  the  men,  while  I  held  Harrel 

53 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

in  conversation,  to  disperse  from  the  rear  as  rapidly  as 
possible,  taking  their  rifles  with  them. 

At  any  other  time  there  would  have  been  humour  in 
the  conversation  that  followed  in  the  excluded  garden. 
Mr.  Harrel  was  excusably  surprised  at  hearing  the  entire 
controversy  between  North  and  South  entered  upon  from 
the  beginning,  but  he  was  resigned  to  silence  when  he 
found  that  each  of  his  interruptions  caused  the  amazing 
argument  to  return  upon  those  beginnings.  In  the 
middle  of  our  argument  Thomas  MacDonagh  joined  us, 
and  he,  too,  protested  against  its  curious  irrelevancy.  But 
I  was  playing  desperately  for  time  to  complete  the 
manoeuvre  that  had  been  put  in  motion,  and  all  the  more 
desperately  because  I  saw  Chief  Inspector  Dunne  seeking 
by  a  kind  of  mime-show  to  attract  Mr.  Harrel's  attention. 
Finally  the  Inspector  gave  up  his  signals  and  drew  his 
Chief's  attention  to  the  remarkable  circumstance  that  while 
we  had  been  discussing  the  Volunteers  had  gone,  rifles 
and  all. 

Yet  they  were  not  all  gone.  The  faithful  third  com- 
pany stood  awaiting  orders,  and  while  Mr.  Harrel  began 
to  complain  of  a  "  discreditable  manoeuvre,"  I  ran  to  its 
Commandant  and  told  him  to  dismiss  and  disperse  his 
men  as  quickly  as  possible.1 

Instantly  his  command  rang  out,  calling  his  faithful 

1  Two  years  after  this,  in  Reading  gaol,  I  learned  from 
Arthur  Griffith  that  he  was  in  the  ranks  of  this  third  company. 
He  told  me  that  the  commandant's  name  was  Kerrigan,  and 
that  he  had  been  an  old  so'dier.  We  agreed  that  his  coolness 
and  steadiness  were  the  feature,  as  they  were  the  salvation,  of 
that  day. 

54 


TWO    FATEFUL    SUNDAYS 


company  to  attention.  It  was  apparent  on  every  face 
that  his  men  knew  what  was  coming,  and  almost  within 
seconds  of  their  dismissal  they  had  melted  miraculously 
away,  leaping  over  the  wall  of  the  park  beside  which  we 
stood,  and  running  quickly  down  the  turning  through 
which  we  had  come.  For  a  few  moments  there  was  the 
noise  of  the  scurry  of  their  going,  and  then  all  was  still 
in  their  absence. 

So,  of  all  our  Howth  Company,  I  was  left  alone  on 
the  road,  with  the  Borderers  and  the  police  still 
indomitably  holding  the  pass  against  me.  Less  from  a 
reasoned  policy  than  from  intuition  I  did  not  go  my  way, 
however,  as  I  could  quite  easily  have  done,  but  continued 
walking  to  and  fro  across  the  road.  It  seemed  to  me  that 
while  I  remained  the  military  and  police  would  also 
remain,  and  that  they  were  better  occupied  standing  there 
in  idleness  than  in  searching  the  neighbourhood.  Behind 
them,  in  the  distance,  across  the  main  road,  stood  the 
large  crowd  that  had  collected.  I  had  been  too  occupied 
to  notice  them  before  then,  but  no  one  could  help  noticing 
them  now,  for  they  had  seen  all  that  had  passed,  and 
they  were  shouting  with  challenge  and  exultation  at  the 
armed  forces  that  stretched  between  them  and  me.  It 
was  through  them  that  the  military  would  have  to  pass 
on  their  way  back,  and  it  was  patent  that  the  passage 
would  not  be  happy,  though  no  one  could  foresee  how 
fatally  it  would  end. 

My  intuition  proved  correct,  for  as  I  walked  to  and  fro, 
Mr.  Harrel  and  his  officers,  military  and  police,  walked 
opposite  me,  manifestly  determined  that  they  would  not 
be  the  first  to  leave.    Then  a  rider  on  a  horse  came  to  me. 

55 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

He  was  in  Volunteer  uniform,  and  he  asked  for  further 
orders,  saying  that  the  rifles  that  had  been  flung  into 
the  bushes  of  the  park  were  being  collected  and  showed 
away  in  the  houses  round  about.  I  urged  him  to  phone 
to  Dublin,  and  to  order  every  available  taxi-cab  and 
motor,  so  as  to  get  the  rifles  without  delay  to  safer  places. 
I  did  not  know  that  the  others  were  already  busy  at  this 
task,  and,  indeed,  that  all  the  undertakers  also  were  being 
requisitioned  for  hearses  and  coffins,  in  which  rifles  were 
removed  to  Dublin  during  the  better  part  of  that  evening 
and  night.  I  suppose  everybody  knew  the  cause  of  the 
extraordinary  number  of  funerals  that  night,  but  all  the 
people  had,  in  a  manner  we  were  yet  in  later  years  to 
learn  so  well,  become  confederates  in  the  secret  work,  and 
in  the  upshot  not  more  than  nineteen  rifles  were  found 
to  be  missing.  In  recompense  for  these,  six  rifles  had 
been  captured  from  the  Scottish  Borderers — a  more  than 
sufficient  exchange. 

Thomas  MacDonagh  and  Bulmer  Hobson  then 
appeared  on  the  scene  from  the  work  on  which  they  had 
been  engaged.  By  this  time  a  number  of  couriers  had 
been  engaged,  and  they  came  to  and  fro  with  whispered 
messages,  some  pretended,  some  real;  and  while  we  re- 
mained there  the  military  and  police  also  remained,  until 
at  lasl:  we  heard  the  Borderers  called  to  attention,  and 
saw  them  marched  through  the  crowd  that  swarmed 
about  them  crying  imprecations  upon  them. 

The  excitement  had  now  passed,  and  I  was  sick  and 
dizzy  with  the  thwacking  my  head  had  received.  So, 
leaving  the  others,  I  made  my  way  back  to  my  hotel. 
There  I  lay  in  bed,  when,  at  ten  that  night,  Colonel 

56 


TWO     FATEFUL    SUNDAYS 


Moore,  Inspector-General  of  the  Irish  Volunteers,  and 
Colonel  Cotter,  Chief  of  Staff,  came  saying  that  they  had 
inquired  concerning  the  day's  proceedings,  and  had  had 
some  difficulty  in  finding  me.  They  insisted  on  the 
necessity  of  my  going  with  them  to  the  papers  to  give 
an  authoritative  account  of  all  that  had  occurred.  Par- 
ticularly was  this  necessary,  they  urged,  because  of  the 
later  events  of  the  day,  and  for  the  first  time,  then,  I 
learned  from  diem  that  the  Borderers,  followed  on  their 
way  back  to  barracks  by  a  hostile  crowd,  had  turned  and 
fired  upon  them,  with  loss  of  life. 

Indeed,  the  necessity  of  such  an  account  had  already 
been  apparent  to  me;  but  what  had  also  been  apparent 
to  me  was  that  the  prominence  into  which  I  had  so 
strangely  been  flung  that  day  would  (human  nature  being 
what  it  is)  probably  be  the  cause  of  bitterness  in  some 
bones.  I  had  already  felt  tliis  before  I  had  left  the  others. 
It  was  intelligible  enough,  for  I  had  come  that  day  into 
the  midst  of  action  from  an  outer  desert,  but  I  was 
certainly  not  disposed  to  invite  more  bitterness  than  I 
had  already  earned.  Colonel  Moore,  however,  character- 
istically put  all  this  down  to  a  sick  head,  and  the  two  of 
them  took  me  out  with  them,  putting  me  under  their 
orders. 

It  was  as  well  they  did  so.  Our  statement  that  night 
displaced  an  official  account  which,  with  scattered  and 
fragmentary  stories  pieced  together,  would  not  have 
proved  comforting  to  us.  To  be  sure,  there  are  as  many 
parts  to  a  tale  as  there  are  tellers  to  tell  it,  and  the  phil- 
osopher has  said  that  truth  lies  at  the  bottom  of  a  well.  Our 
statement  merely  recorded  what  I  had  seen  exactly  as  I 

57 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

remembered  to  have  seen  it.  I  have  not  seen  it  since  I 
read  it  the  following  morning  as  I  returned  to  London. 
Yet,  as  I  was  the  only  person  at  the  head  of  our  column 
from  beginning  to  end  of  the  action,  and  as  the  other 
side  attacked  and  argued  by  different  numbers,  I  certainly 
was  the  only  person  who  could  see  it  all  of  a  piece  and 
tell  the  different  parts  of  it  together. 


58 


T 


CHAPTER    FOUR 

THE   EUROPEAN   WAR 

§i 

^HE  task  entrusted  to  me  was  completed,  and  nothing 
remained  to  keep  me  in  Dublin.  Troubled  by  re- 
minders awaiting  me  in  London  of  articles  and  reviews 
long  overdue,  I  returned,  therefore,  by  the  mail  early  the 
following  morning,  reaching  London  that  night  in  time 
for  a  debate  at  Westminster  that  seemed  to  me,  hot-foot 
from  the  scenes  of  which  it  dealt,  as  remote  and  unreal 
as  the  mountains  of  the  moon. 

I  found  London  shaken  by  the  news  from  Ireland.  I 
knew  the  minds  of  many  of  those  in  London  letters  and 
journalism  on  Irish  politics.  Arguments  hitherto  had 
left  these  minds  unmoved — they  had  merely  stirred 
traditional  arguments  in  answer — but  now  I  found  that 
a  breath  of  action  had  blown  many  clouds  away.  There 
was  no  mistaking  the  change.  It  was  not  a  mere  change 
of  opinion,  but  rather  a  change  from  an  attitude  of  dis- 
respect to  one  of  respect.  Unfortunately  it  had  little  time 
to  develop  before  Europe  found  herself  at  war. 

I  had  hardly  contemplated  the  arrears  of  work  that 
awaited  me  than,  on  Wednesday,  I  received  a  telegram 
from  Ireland  asking  me  to  cross  at  once.  In  Ireland  I 
found  the  scene  even  more  remarkably  changed.  Political 
boundaries  had  disappeared,  having  been  submerged  by 
a  rising  tide  of  sympathy  and  indignation.     The  Irish 

59 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

Volunteers,  instead  of  being  a  cause  of  division,  had 
become  the  symbol  of  a  new  unity.  This  was  not  the 
desperate  unity  of  six  years  later,  when  the  people  were 
knit  together  by  the  terror  that  raised  its  head  among 
them.  It  was  something  free  and  expressed,  spontaneous 
and  comradely,  the  old  landmarks  having  been  washed 
away  by  waters  rising  from  wells  deeply  stirred. 
Nationalist  and  Unionist,  Sinn  Feinach  and  Parlia- 
mentarian, had  forgotten  the  distinctions  tiiat  had 
separated  them.  If  a  political  miracle  could  have  accom- 
panied the  emotional,  and  political  freedom  have  then  and 
there  been  planted  in  the  country,  it  is  difficult  to  say  to 
what  height  that  annealment  of  spirit  might  not  have 
risen.  But  miracles  do  not  happen,  and  that  which  had 
brought  unity  was  shortly  to  bring  a  disunity  even  pro- 
founder  than  before. 

The  change  had  spread  even  to  Ulster.  While  I  was 
in  Ireland  during  these  days  I  was  invited  by  a  friend 
to  meet  the  executive  heads  of  the  Ulster  Volunteers  in 
Belfast,  and  it  was  explained  that  the  meeting  would  be, 
not  with  those  who  shone  in  the  social  and  political  world, 
but  with  the  workers,  with  those  whose  work  had  made 
the  force  what  it  was.  I  went,  of  course.  There  were 
some  who  regarded  my  going  as  either  treachery  or  a 
defilement — perhaps  both;  but  to  me  the  memory  of  that 
meeting  is  a  very  pleasant  one,  and  I  brought  awav  the 
warmest  sense  of  friendship  from  it. 

There  were  about  sixty  or  seventy  present,  nearly  all 
of  them  men  in  whom  responsibility  had  tempered  the 
asperities  of  politics,  men  to  whom  authority  had  brought 
a  wider  outlook  than  the  past  had  taught  them.     They 

60 


THE    EUROPEAN    WAR 

were  good  fighters,  but  they  were  also  hospitable  fighters, 
who  took  hard  knocks  as  comely  as  they  gave  them. 
They  began,  I  remember,  by  contemptuously  contrasting 
the  Howth  gun-running  with  their  own  exploit  at  Larne. 
I  admitted  the  disparity;  but  I  drew  their  attention  to  the 
fa<5l  that  we  had  suffered  from  two  disabilities  from  which 
they  had  by  good  fortune  been  relieved.  The  first  was 
that  Government  officials  had  not  been  accessory  to  our 
task,  and  the  second  was  that  we  were  plain,  poor  folk, 
whom  the  wealthy  and  the  notable  had  not  patronized. 
At  that  they  bridled,  as  befitted  men  in  v/hom  the  stuff 
of  independence  lay.  With  that  we  passed  to  a  frank 
discussion  of  our  difference,  and,  because  of  the  very 
frankness  of  that  discussion,  we  found  that  our  likeness 
was  not  less  than  our  difference.  We  did  not,  to  be  sure, 
remove  that  difference  or  attempt  to  do  so,  but  we  shook 
hands  when  we  had  fought,  and  there  is  better  virtue 
in  that  exchange  than  will  ever  be  found  in  trim  con- 
formity. 

Yet  in  that  very  city  I  heard  the  news  that  was  to  bring 
a  greater  distance  between  us  than  there  had  been  in  the 
past.  It  was  there  that  I  saw  the  news  on  the  placards, 
and  heard  the  newsboys  harshly  calling,  that  England 
had  declared  war  on  Germany. 

§2 

It  needed  no  uncommon  prescience  to  perceive  (even 
though  not  many  at  that  time  expected  the  war  to  last 
more  than  a  few  months)  that  nothing  after  that  news 
would  be  as  it  had  been  before.    Neither  for  any  nation, 

61 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

nor  for  any  person,  could  the  past,  be  relied  on  with  any 
certitude.  Continuity  was  everywhere  being  broken,  and, 
in  great  affairs  and  in  small,  critical  questions  were  every- 
where being  presented  for  decision  with  the  oncoming 
of  violence  in  Europe. 

I  was  only  one  among  tens  of  thousands  to  whom  such 
a  decision  came  during  these  unsettled  days,  and  it  came 
presenting  an  antique  way-worn  alternative.  It  came 
in  the  form  of  two  offers,  both  of  which  arrived  within 
a  few  days  of  each  other.  The  first  was  an  offer  from  a 
London  newspaper  to  represent  it  in  Europe,  and  it  was 
profitable.  The  second  was  a  letter  from  Colonel  Moore 
asking  me  to  undertake  the  honorary  position  of 
Inspecting  Officer  of  the  Irish  Volunteers  in  Co.  Mayo. 
A  decision  was  not  to  be  taken  between  such  alternatives 
without  some  heart-searching,  for  the  war  had  aroused 
England  to  her  depths,  and  to  go  to  Ireland  in  such  cir- 
cumstances meant  (among  other  things,  friendly  and 
craftsmanlike)  not  only  to  relinquish  a  covetable  offer, 
but  to  abandon  one's  career  without  the  prospect  of  any- 
thing to  look  to  for  a  livelihood.  It  meant  sundering 
everything,  and  it  meant  going  a  road  on  which  no 
return  could  be  made. 

Many  hours  were  afterwards  to  arise  when  the  choice 
then  taken  would  tempt  and  taunt  me  and  would  be 
waived  away.  Good  for  us,  perhaps,  that  passing  bitter- 
ness cannot  undo  a  decision  once  taken ;  but  whether  good 
or  ill,  so  it  is.  It  happened  at  the  time  that  that  year  I 
had  built  a  cottage  for  myself  in  Achill,  and  this  fact  made 
it  possible  for  my  wife  and  myself  to  decide  that  I  should 
undertake  the  work  suggested  by  Colonel  Moore. 

62 


THE    EUROPEAN     WAR 

We  therefore  returned  to  Ireland,  and  I  spent  some 
days  in  Dublin  in  order  to  be  instructed  in  the  duties  of 
my  work,  and  to  learn  how  the  organization  of  the  Volun- 
teers in  Co.  Mayo  stood.  During  these  days,  however, 
a  situation  developed  out  of  which  great  matters  were  to 
flow,  sweeping  away  the  very  ground  on  which  any 
decision  had  been  taken. 

Some  time  before  the  gun-running  at  Howth,  John 
Redmond  had  put  forward  his  demand  that  an  equal 
number  of  his  own  nominees  should  be  added  to  the 
Provisional  Committee  of  the  Volunteers.  With  the 
expectation  of  arms  that  demand  had  been  conceded, 
though  its  admission  had  nearly  split  the  new  movement. 
The  two  sides,  therefore,  that  contended  for  the  control 
of  the  Volunteers  were  joined  together  to  make  one  single 
executive.  The  union,  to  be  sure,  did  not  prove  an  extra- 
ordinary success;  but  contention  was  kept  to  the  com- 
mittee room — until  the  Howth  gun-running,  and  the  fatal 
events  that  followed  it,  washed  out,  or  for  a  time  seemed 
to  wash  out,  all  differences.  With  feeling  running  high 
through  the  country,  each  side  vied  with  the  other  to 
head  it  and  give  it  voice.  But  with  the  outbreak  of  the 
European  war  all  this  was  quickly  changed.  John 
Redmond,  as  the  constitutional  leader,  led  Ireland  into  the 
war  by  the  side  of  England,  whereas  those  who  had  con- 
ceived and  created  the  Volunteers  remembered  the  old 
rede  that  "  England's  difficulty  was  Ireland's  oppor- 
tunity." Between  the  two  sides,  then,  the  contest  was 
resumed  with  a  bitterness  that  outmatched  anything  that 
had  preceded. 

Yet,  even  then,  the  situation  might  have  been  saved, 

63 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

not  only  in  Ireland,  but  over  a  wider  area  still.  For  the 
contest  took  two  aspects  to  itself.  The  first  was  that 
which  concerned  the  immediate  political  prospect;  the 
second  swung  on  Ireland's  attitude  towards  the  world- 
wide problems  of  the  war,  and  the  second  was  governed 
by  the  first.  The  Home  Rule  Bill  of  that  time  had  passed 
all  its  stages,  but  it  had  not  yet  been  enacted,  and  it  was 
claimed  in  England  that,  as  a  contentious  measure,  it 
should  remain  suspended  until  the  war  was  over.  Beyond 
question,  had  John  Redmond  insisted  on  its  being  not 
only  enacted,  but  put  into  operation  as  the  price  of 
Ireland's  participation  in  the  war,  he  must  have  carried 
his  point.  He  really  was  in  the  position  of  a  dictator,  for 
England  was  faced  by  the  gravest  peril  of  her  history,  and 
the  mere  suggestion  of  trouble  in  Ireland  would  have 
gained  him  his  point  had  he  pushed  his  advantage  to 
the  utmost. 

No  doubt  it  was  partly  the  very  strength  of  his  position 
that  caused  him  to  stay  his  hand,  for  there  is  in  every 
excess  of  strength  its  own  weakness,  and  relentless  oppor- 
tunities paralyze  the  will.  Anyway,  he  did  not  press  his 
advantage  beyond  insisting  that  the  Bill  should  be 
inscribed  in  the  Statute  Book,  whereas  (as  time  has 
proved)  he  would  have  served  both  countries  best  had  he 
insisted  that  the  Act,  with  all  its  limitations,  be  put  into 
force,  for  the  wave  of  enthusiasm  that  this  would  have 
created  would  have  swept  the  nation  and  might  have 
prevented  all  that  was  to  follow. 

However,  these  are  idle  reflections.  The  fact  remains 
that  this  was  not  done.  The  "  Act  safely  on  the  Statute 
Book "  became  the  butt  of  every  bitter  humorist,  and 

64 


THE    EUROPEAN    WAR 

the  Volunteers  were  split  in  twain.  At  first  that  split 
was  apparent  only  at  headquarters,  and  the  rank  and 
file,  full  of  enthusiasm,  were  not  aware  of  the  wrangles 
that  took  place  at  each  meeting  of  the  Provisional  Com- 
mittee. But  when  John  Redmond  took  occasion  of  a 
parade  of  Volunteers  at  Woodenbridge,  in  Co.  Wicklow, 
on  the  20th  of  September,  to  make  a  recruiting  speech,  it 
was  decided  by  the  original  members  of  the  Provisional 
Committee  (or  so  many  of  them  as  could  be  relied  on  to 
act  together)  to  eject  John  Redmond's  nominees. 

A  moment  was  chosen  when  an  announcement  to  that 
effect  would  make  the  greatest  noise.  Mr.  Asquith  was 
due  to  speak  with  John  Redmond  at  the  Mansion  House, 
Dublin,  on  the  night  of  the  24th  of  September,  and,  the 
night  before,  a  statement  was  issued  by  the  greater 
number  of  the  original  members  of  die  Provisional  Com- 
mittee that  John  Redmond's  nominees  would  no  longer 
be  deemed  to  form  part  of  that  committee,  that  the 
original  constitution  of  the  Volunteers  would  be  resumed, 
and  that  a  Convention  would  be  called  to  elect  a  new 
committee,  which  would  be  entrusted  with  the  formula- 
tion of  a  sound  national  policy. 

§3 

So,  within  a  few  hours  of  my  arrival  in  Dublin  to  take 
up  the  duties  to  which  I  had  been  assigned,  and  for 
which  I  had  put  aside  the  work  to  which  I  had  until  a 
few  weeks  before  held  myself  in  fee,  I  found  myself 
confronted  by  a  situation  that  seemed  to  empty  my  act 
of  its  meaning.    It  was  one  thing  to  think  of  differences 

65  F 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

clear  and  intelligible  in  Dublin;  it  was  quite  another  to 
consider  their  effect  on  the  people  in  the  country,  where 
their  very  alphabet  was  unknown.  There  is  in  every 
country  a  tendency  to  think  of  the  capital  as  a  microcosm 
of  the  nation,  and  in  every  country  the  assumption  is 
false.  Particularly  false  is  it  in  Ireland,  where  perhaps 
the  tendency  is  more  pronounced  than  it  is  elsewhere. 
My  life  during  the  past,  few  years  had  made  me  more 
susceptible  to  the  thought  of  the  country  than  to  that  of 
the  capital.  Indeed,  the  one  was  fairly  familiar  to  me, 
whereas  the  elaborate  network  of  the  other  was  quite  un- 
known. I  knew,  therefore,  that  the  issue  that  was  ripe 
enough  in  Dublin  would  be  as  unintelligible  in  Mayo  as 
a  Hebrew  psalm.  And  since  men  will  not  rally  around  a 
cause  they  do  not  wholly  understand,  I  saw  only  too 
clearly  that  the  consequence  of  the  intelligible  con- 
flict between  the  two  sections  in  Dublin  would  be  un- 
intelligible in  the  country,  resulting  in  the  disappearance 
of  the  Volunteers. 

I  had,  therefore,  my  own  decision  to  take — a  decision 
that  was  to  bring  bitter  criticisms  on  me  in  after-years. 
It  was  not  an  easy  decision  to  make.  On  one  side  stood 
Eoin  MacNeill,  with  whom  my  inclination  and  judgment 
lay.  On  the  other  side  stood  Colonel  Moore,  who  had 
ranged  himself  with  John  Redmond,  and  from  whom  I 
held  my  command.  I  therefore  went  to  both  men 
frankly.  I  made  no  disguise  where  I  stood  myself;  but 
I  pointed  out  that,  if  the  Volunteers  in  Mayo  were  to  be 
held  together,  controversy  must  be  kept  out  of  the  ranks 
until  time  had  brought  some  knowledge  of  the  matters 
about  which  it  was  being  waged.    I  proposed,  therefore, 

66 


THE    EUROPEAN     WAR 

that  I  should  bind  myself  to  each  of  them  not  to  commit 
myself  publicly  to  either  side  for  a  period  of  three  months, 
and  to  take  up  my  command  on  the  understanding  that 
I  was  not  to  permit  the  raising  of  the  issue  among  the 
Volunteers  in  Mayo  during  that  time. 

Each  of  the  two  men  agreed  with  this  course  of  action, 
each  knowing  that  die  other  had  also  agreed.  Each  of 
them  authorized  me  to  act  on  that  understanding,  and 
said  that  no  action  would  be  taken  from  either  side  to 
injure  the  task  that  I  was  to  attempt.  On  my  arrival  in 
Mayo  I  told  the  County  Committee  what  I  had  done, 
and  its  members,  and  the  men  whom  they  had  been 
elected  to  represent,  were  glad  that  a  path  had  been 
found  out  of  difficulties  that  they  regarded  as  disaster. 
To  the  County  Committee  I  proposed  that  I  should  now 
hold  my  command  as  from  it,  and  that  its  members 
should  also  be  pledged  not  to  commit  themselves  publicly 
to  either  side. 

For  some  weeks,  therefore,  the  Volunteers  in  Mayo 
were  held  together,  working  heartily  and  happily  and 
without  strife.  The  strife  in  Dublin  had,  of  course,  its 
echoes  among  us,  but  there  was  an  anxious,  even  a  pain- 
ful, desire  to  keep  it  from  invading  us.  There  were 
during  these  weeks  no  less  than  some  five  thousand  men 
enrolled  in  the  Volunteers  in  the  county,  and  everywhere, 
among  the  rank  and  file,  the  men  kept  faith  with  one 
another  and  with  the  decision  we  all  had  taken. 

Our  good  fortune,  however,  was  not  to  continue. 
After  some  weeks  letters  appeared  in  the  local  press  from 
my  own  friends  in  Dublin  denouncing  me,  asserting  that 
I  held  no  authority  whatever  from  the  MacNeill  Volun- 

67 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

tcers,  as  they  then  were  known.  To  give  them  their  due, 
the  other  side  said  nothing,  and  left  me  to  enjoy  my  dis- 
comfiture in  my  own  side  of  our  house.  That  discomfi- 
ture was  complete.  By  my  own  pledge  was  I  bound  to 
silence.  The  fad:  that  my  own  side  of  the  house  attacked 
me  (and  attacked  me  with  some  virulence,  as  one  who 
evaded  the  taking  of  sides)  did  not  absolve  me  from  my 
word  given  to  Colonel  Moore — an  undertaking  that  I 
intended  faithfully  to  observe  until  I  had  been  freely  re- 
leased from  it,  as  in  honour  due.  Therefore,  I  could 
only  point  out  what  were  the  facts,  and  appeal  directly  to 
Eoin  MacNeill,  who  did  not  know  what  had  happened. 
The  attack  then  ceased,  but  by  that  time  the  damage  had 
been  done.  Controversy  and  bitterness  had  come,  the 
best  of  the  men  dropped  out  of  the  ranks,  the  force 
melted  away,  and  where,  in  October,  five  thousand  might 
have  been  mobilized  in  the  county,  by  the  end  of  the  year 
not  one  entire  company  remained. 

Thus  the  very  ground  on  which  my  decision  to  return 
to  Ireland  had  been  taken  was  now  swept  away.  In  my 
cottage  in  Achill,  therefore,  as  far  from  intrigues  in 
Dublin  and  wars  in  Europe  as  I  could  well  be,  once 
again  I  took  up  my  notebooks  and  returned  to  my  craft, 
ill-pleased  that  I  should  ever  have  forsaken  it,  and  never 
dreaming  that  I  should  again  be  taken  and  uncere- 
moniously flung  anew  into  the  hurly-burly. 

§4 

Not  for  another  eighteen  months,  however,  was  this  to 
be.    During  those  eighteen  months  I  moved  out  of  Achill 

68 


THE    EUROPEAN    WAR 

but  twice.  Circumstance,  indeed,  did  not  allow  of  re- 
moval. London  editors,  personal  friends  many  of  them, 
assumed  fronts  of  brass  before  one  whose  allegiance  in 
that  hour  of  national  peril  was  not  the  same  as  theirs. 
Who  could  blame  them?  When  old  comrades  of  many 
a  hunt,  to  whom  one  sent  one's  newest  book,  fresh  from 
the  mint,  sent  back  a  message  that  those  who  stood  not 
with  their  nation  ranked  as  personal  foes,  to  whom  hand 
would  not  be  extended  nor  acknowledgment  given,  it 
was  not  surprising  that  the  papers  for  which  one  had 
written  should  intimate  that  their  columns  were  reserved 
for  contributors  who  sang  the  same  tune  as  they  and  in 
the  same  key.  But  the  consequence  was  that  there  was 
not  time  or  liberty  for  movement. 

Fortunately,  I  had  three  contracts  for  books,  and  as 
there  would  be  no  aids  to  the  exchequer  till  these  were 
completed,  I  was  held  fast  to  my  desk.  In  Achill,  how- 
ever, one  is  not  utterly  dependent  on  these  aids.  There 
were  wild  goats  in  the  cliffs,  game  of  sundry  sorts  on  the 
mountains,  and  fish  in  the  sea;  and  on  many  an  occasion, 
when  circumstance  was  untoward,  the  gun,  the  rod,  and 
the  deep-sea  line  helped  us  to  stock  the  larder  when  other 
methods  had  failed.  I  do  not  pretend  that  it  was 
pleasant,  and  I  could  not  turn  to  the  eternal  shift  of 
imagining  myself  a  hero  to  escape  from  feeling  a  fool. 

Nevertheless,  these  months  live  in  my  memory  as 
among  the  richest,  as  certainly  they  were  the  peace- 
fullest,  of  my  life.  It  was  a  most  fortunate  thing  that  I 
had  built  that  cottage  just  when  I  did.  I  do  not  think 
there  can  be  another  house  in  the  world  standing  amid  a 
scene  of  such  wild  and  natural  beauty.    It  is  built  on  a 

69 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

bray  above  the  headland  running  out  into  the  waters  of 
the  Atlantic.  Just  off  the  headland,  opposite  our  cottage, 
lies  the  little  island  of  Inishgallun,  capped  above  its  wild, 
rock-bound  sides  with  grass  of  the  brightest,  green,  over 
which  the  waves  of  the  terrific  winter  storms  would  break 
in  high  cascades  of  spray.  In  the  distance,  to  the  south, 
lies  Clew  Bay,  with  the  beautiful  shape  of  Clare  Island  at 
all  times  to  be  seen,  like  a  ghostly  phantasy  floating  on 
the  waters,  and,  when  the  waters  lie  quietly  at  peace  and 
sunlight  floods  the  bay,  Inishbofin  and  little  islands  lying 
further  to  the  south,  with  the  mountains  of  Connemara 
frowning  in  the  distance. 

Some  two  miles  to  the  west,  across  our  own  little  bay, 
the  mighty  cliffs  of  Meenawn,  known  as  the  Cathedral 
Cliffs,  rise  sheer  above  the  waters  and  shut  off  the 
inland  of  Achill.  Behind  the  cottage  bends  a  great  bow 
of  mountains,  from  the  broad-based  mass  of  Cruachan  in 
the  west  swinging  round  to  form  the  northern  backbone 
of  Achill  to  the  highland  behind  Meenawn.  Over  these 
mountains,  through  a  valley  among  the  bogs,  the  road  to 
the  mainland  wanders  and  disappears  over  the  highland 
in  the  distance. 

One  lived  very  near  to  Earth  during  these  months, 
and  it  proved  a  chastening  experience.  During  the 
winter,  when  tempests  swept  upon  us  from  the  Atlantic, 
our  cottage  groaned  and  creaked  like  a  ship  at  sea. 
Often  it  seemed  as  though  no  mortal  structure  could 
withstand  the  recurring  blasts  that  came.  Indeed,  I  have 
seen  strong  men,  bending  to  resist  those  blasts,  spun 
helplessly  into  the  ditch  beside  the  road.  Then  the  ocean 
was  like  writhing  serpents  at  play,  the  waves  ruining 

70 


THE    EUROPEAN    WAR 

onward  like  mountains  with  flying  manes  to  break 
against  the  torn  rocks  of  the  coast  in  soaring  columns  of 
spray,  while  the  bays  and  inlets  were  thick  with  foam 
uplifted  and  suddenly  downfallen  on  the  crests  and  in 
the  trough  of  huge  rollers  whose  booming  sounded  above 
every  other  noise  of  the  storm.  And  all  the  time  hurri- 
canes of  rain  went  shrieking  by  over  the  land  and  mighty 
buffets  of  wind  echoed  about  the  mountains. 

Never  was  Earth  so  savagely  turbulent  as  on  that  tree- 
less island  bare  to  all  Atlantic  storms.  Yet  never  could 
Earth  be  so  tender  or  so  ecstatically  beautiful.  In  the 
winter  itself  pet-days  would  suddenly  come,  and  during 
the  spring  and  summer  long  spells  would  continue,  when 
peace  and  beauty  would  wear  so  exquisite  a  loveliness 
that  it  was  hard  to  conceive  that  it  could  ever  be 
shattered.  During  the  day,  when  the  ocean  idly  lapped 
the  shore,  and  sunlight  steeped  land  and  sea,  the  air  be- 
tween heaven  and  earth  was  as  full  of  subtle  beauties  as 
an  opal.  And  often  at  nights  I  stood  by  the  hour  gazing 
motionless  on  the  vast  stretch  of  land  and  sea  flooded  by 
moonlight,  the  mountains  standing  up  against  the  sky 
like  tall  ghosts,  and  the  ocean  glinting  as  far  as  eye  could 
reach  like  the  spears  of  a  countless  host.  Deep,  inward 
peace  pervaded  such  scenes,  and  if  one  spoke  at  all,  one 
spoke  reluctantly  and  very  softly. 

Moments  such  as  these  are  not  for  naught.  Nothing 
can  efface  their  memory  for  those  who  have  shared  them. 
Often  during  the  years  that  followed,  when  troubles 
darkened  and  hours  of  bitterness  came  almost  too  great 
to  be  borne,  my  mind  went  back  to  them  and  rested  amid 
them  in  the  assurance  that  Earth  has  of  herself  a  beauty 

7i 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

greater  than  any  that  man,  with  his  petty  strife  and  ambi- 
tion, can  possibly  hope  to  bring  her.  We  vex  her  with 
our  gifts  and  add  nothing  to  her  loveliness  and  dignity. 

§5 

Amid  such  scenes,  during  the  early  months  of  1915,  I 
wrote  my  novel  "  Children  of  Earth " — wrote  it  too 
quickly,  under  the  pressure  of  a  contract,  and,  therefore, 
sent  it  out  untrimmed  and  untutored.  Yet,  with  all  its 
faults,  and  even  because  of  its  gnarled  redundancy,  it 
reflects,  I  think,  the  wild  scenes  and  the  strong  life  of 
which  it  dealt. 

While  it  kept  me  occupied,  however,  Europe  was  torn 
with  war,  and  earnest  men  in  Dublin  were  planning  to 
take  occasions  of  that  war  to  win  national  deliverance. 
I  knew  nothing  of  their  plans — knew  nothing  till  the 
storm  broke  which  they  had  so  carefully  and  so  patiently 
prepared — would  not,  indeed,  have  been  entrusted  with 
knowledge,  because  I  had  failed  to  take  sides  energetically 
and  emphatically  at  the  first  hint  of  divisions.  Besides,  I 
was  divorced  from  understanding  and  knowledge  by  my 
enforced  exile,  and  I  afterwards  learned,  indeed,  that  I 
was  doubly  divorced;  for  the  fact  that  I  lived  in  Achill, 
and  never  moved  thence,  was  judged  by  many  to  be 
strange  and  extraordinary,  and,  therefore,  sinister.  We 
are  all  apt  to  look  for  fantastic  psychologies  to  expound 
the  movements  of  men  when  the  plain  facts  of  livelihood 
are  generally  adequate. 

However,  it  was  not  only  my  own  side  that  harboured 
these  thoughts.     To  Dublin  Castle  my  presence  on  the 

72 


THE    EUROPEAN    WAR 


western  sea-coast,  while  war  raged  in  Europe,  was  judged 
to  merit  the  worst  possible  interpretation.  Had  I  not 
built  my  cottage  during  the  summer  of  diat  year? 
Clearly  I  must  have  known  the  war  was  coming.  It  was 
true  that  while  others  planned  to  make  a  national  revolu- 
tion, I  planned  merely  to  make  books,  and  to  get  con- 
tracts for  their  making.  True,  I  seldom  heard  from 
friends  in  Dublin.  Yet  I  was  soon  to  learn  that  they  and 
I  were  held  impartially  in  official  regard,  and  the  incident 
by  which  that  knowledge  came  to  me  is  worth  record,  for 
out  of  what  lay  at  the  back  of  it  very  much  of  Irish  history 
has  been  made. 

It  happened  one  wild  night  in  January,  1915.  An 
Atlantic  storm  was  crying  about  the  house,  and  hurri- 
canes of  wind  were  lashing  the  windows  with  spray  and 
sleet,  when  two  strangers  stumbled  over  the  bog  through 
the  inky  darkness  to  our  door.  The  leader  of  the  two 
men  announced  himself  as  Captain  MacBride,  and  said 
that  he  was  the  owner  of  a  steam-yacht,  on  which  he  was 
cruising  about  the  west  coast  of  Ireland  in  pursuit  of 
suitable  fishing.  His  comrade,  who  spoke  with  a  strong 
American  accent,  was  introduced  as  the  skipper  of  his 
yacht.  He  himself,  as  his  name  denoted,  he  said,  was 
an  Irishman,  but  he  had  spent  the  greater  part  of  his  life 
out  of  the  country. 

We  are  accustomed,  in  the  west  of  Ireland,  to  accord 
travellers  the  best  of  such  hospitality  as  is  available. 
After  Captain  MacBride  and  his  skipper  had  supped, 
while  we  sat  about  the  hearth-fire  with  glasses  of  punch, 
he  became  more  communicative.  He  had  spent  the 
greater  part  of  his  days,  he  informed  us,  in  the  Chilean 

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RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

army,  which  he  had  helped  to  train.  The  Chilean  army, 
I  was  to  understand,  was  extraordinarily  efficient.  Little 
wonder.  I  was,  of  course,  aware  that  the  Chilean  army 
was  officered  largely  by  Germans.  And  he  lifted  from 
my  mantelpiece  a  little  bust  of  Beethoven,  and  gently 
extolled  the  greatness  of  German  gifts  to  the  world. 

I  sought  fuller  information  regarding  his  cruise.  Had 
he  not  found  it  difficult  to  come  across  the  Atlantic 
during  a  time  of  war?  He  had,  he  said;  but,  he  added, 
he  was  an  American  citizen,  and  but  for  the  fortunate 
circumstance  that  his  yacht  was  registered  under  the 
American  flag,  and  that  he  himself  and  his  skipper  were 
bearers  of  American  passports,  he  would  never  have  been 
able  to  manage.  As  it  was,  he  was  being  considerably 
annoyed,  and  only  frequent  appeals  to  the  American 
Embassy  in  London  kept  him  under  a  continual  im- 
munity. Branching  suddenly  aside,  then,  he  repeated 
that  he  was  in  search  of  good  fishing.  The  waters  there- 
about were  good  for  pollagh  fishing,  were  they  not?  I 
said  that  they  undoubtedly  were,  and  he  suggested  that 
while  he  was  engaged  at  his  sport  he  would  be  glad  to 
make  my  acquaintance  more  fully. 

He  made  a  quaint  picture.  He  was  less  like  a  German 
than  a  caricature  of  a  German.  He  wore  German  leg- 
gings, a  German  military  coat,  his  moustaches  were 
brushed  upward  in  the  fiercest  and  most  approved 
fashion,  and  he  spoke  with  the  strongest  and  most  un- 
disguised of  German  accents.  While  he  spoke  a  knock 
fell  on  the  kitchen  door,  and  when  I  went  to  see  what 
was  there,  one  of  the  men  from  the  village,  who  usually 
tended  the  house,  entered  quickly  to  say  that  he  had 

74 


THE    EUROPEAN    WAR 

made  his  way  across  the  bog  to  tell  me  that  the  house 
was  surrounded  by  the  police.  I  was  told,  however,  that 
I  was  to  let  my  mind  rest  easy,  for  the  young  men  of 
the  village  had  marked  the  police,  and  had  also  sur- 
rounded them. 

The  concern  of  the  police  was  certainly  not  surprising. 
Any  mere  stranger  would  have  excited  it,  however 
innocent  his  enterprise  and  procedure.  But  for  one  who 
spoke  with  the  accent  my  guest  made  no  effort  to 
disguise,  who  went  on  his  journeys  so  remarkably 
attired,  and  cruised  our  waters  on  a  steam-yacht  look- 
ing for  pollagh  fishing  while  January's  storms  lashed  the 
seas  to  fury,  and  the  nations  of  Europe  rent  one  another 
asunder,  a  little  attention  was  surely  merited. 

When  I  informed  our  guest  of  what  I  had  learned,  he 
said  he  was  not  surprised.  He  was  becoming  inured  to 
these  attentions.  In  fact  two  British  cruisers,  unfor- 
tunately, accompanied  his  yacht  wherever  it  went.  Occa- 
sionally they  fired  across  his  bows,  and  their  crews 
searched  his  craft.  They  were  looking,  he  believed,  for 
Sir  Roger  Casement.  No;  they  had  not  found  him. 
His  yacht  was  a  liberal  craft;  Sir  Roger  Casement  might 
be  there  all  the  time,  and  yet  not  be  found.  Nothing 
would  give  him  greater  pleasure  than  that  my  wife  and 
I  should  take  a  return  of  our  hospitality  on  his  yacht. 

While  he  spoke,  one  thought  only  held  my  mind.  It 
was  that  Mr.  David  Harrel  (whom  I  had  encountered  at 
Clontarf,  and  who  had  been  resigned  from  the  Assistant- 
Commissionership  of  the  Dublin  Metropolitan  Police 
because  of  that  day's  work)  had,  a  few  weeks  before, 
been  appointed  an  officer  of  the  Royal  Naval  Reserve, 

75 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

and  I  had  already  been  informed  from  Dublin  that  his 
particular  charge  was  the  organization  of  secret  service 
in  care  of  coast  surveillance.  I  therefore  spoke  little  (and 
indeed  he  did  not  require  much  encouragement),  but  I 
instantly  avowed  my  esteem  and  regard  for  Roger 
Casement. 

He  fired  to  that  theme.  He  also,  he  said,  had  the  high 
honour  of  Sir  Roger  Casement's  friendship,  and  he  held 
no  purpose  dearer  than  to  help  and  befriend  both  him 
and  his  cause.  He  proceeded,  then,  to  inveigh  against 
the  British  and  the  French.  He  had  travelled  widely, 
and  it  was  his  opinion  that  French  culture  was  only  a 
veneer,  whereas  the  British  had  none  at  all.  .  .  . 

At  last  he  rose  to  go,  and  invited  us  warmly  to  stay 
with  him  for  some  days  on  his  yacht,  where  she  lay 
anchored  in  peaceful  waters  ofT  Salia.  We  instantly 
accepted  his  invitation,  and  two  days  afterwards,  when 
we  were  due  to  go,  I  wired  regretting  the  illness  of  my 
wife.  Within  a  week  he  was  back  again.  He  came, 
accompanied  by  a  line  of  constables  on  bicycles,  who 
cruised  about  the  village  in  the  pretence  that  they  had 
come  on  other  business  altogether.  It  was,  I  thought, 
a  master-stroke  not  to  let  the  police  be  privy  to  the  purpose 
of  his  coming,  for  their  busy  anxiety  made  a  very  pretty 
mask  that  might  well  have  beguiled  the  unwary. 

Once  again  Captain  MacBride  shared  our  hospitality. 
Once  again  we  were  invited  to  his  yacht.  Once  again 
we  accepted  eagerly.  And  once  again  my  wife  fell 
inopportunely  ill. 

After  that  we  saw  him  no  more.  Some  years  later  I 
was  told  (with  what  truth  I  know  not)  that  he  was  the 

76 


THE    EUROPEAN    WAR 

same  Captain  MacBride  who  won  an  unpleasant  notoriety 
while  in  command  of  the  Barralong.  But  within  a  week 
of  his  second  visit  the  villages  were  placarded  with  notices 
that,  in  view  of  a  possible  attack  by  the  German  fleet  on 
the  coast,  the  people  were  to  hold  themselves  in  instant 
readiness  to  remove  themselves  and  their  goods  inland 
on  a  few  hours'  instruction  to  that  effect.1 

Men  stood  in  knots  discussing  this  amazing  tidings, 
and  lamentations  rose  from  the  women,  who  saw  ruin 
and  starvation  before  them.  Imprecations  broke  out 
against  Captain  MacBride  and  his  yacht,  and  anger  at 
last  centred  upon  me,  because  he  had  visited  me.  I, 
therefore,  at  once  called  the  people  together  and  pointed 
out  the  utter  absurdity  of  the  notices,  saying  that  their 
only  intention  could  be  to  alarm  the  people  and  breed 
mutual  suspicion.  In  a  trice,  then,  anger  turned  upon 
the  police,  who  found  it  wise  for  a  while  to  keep  to  their 
barracks. 

I  knew  from  this  visit,  however,  that  the  Intelligence 
Service  of  Dublin  Castle  had  me  in  its  care.  I  do  not 
mean  the  police,  who  buzzed  about  like  flies  looking 
about  for  something  on  which  to  alight,  each  of  them 
creating  more  annoyance  in  a  day  than  a  wise  man  could 
hope  to  appease  in  a  month,  but  those  in  control  at  head- 
quarters. Their  forefinger  had  surely  indicated  me,  and 
that  indication  was  not  to  be  without  its  certain 
consequences. 

1  The  same  notice  was  placarded  throughout  the  greater  part 
of  the  Irish  coast-line,  and  whether  it  had  any  connection  with 
the  coast-wise  cruise  of  the  steam-yacht  I  do  not,  of  course, 
know.     No  one  doubted  the  connection  in  Achill. 

77 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

Having  regard  to  all  that  had  happened,  and  particu- 
larly to  the  fact  that  my  convictions  were  well-known, 
this  was  not  surprising.  But  it  took  some  surprising 
forms.  Every  little  creek  of  the  gnarled  headland  on 
which  my  house  stood  was  searched  constantly  for  traces 
of  the  submarines  with  which  I  was  supposed  to  traffic, 
though  the  most  landlubberly  glance  could  see  that  a 
circumspect  submarine  commander  would  never  have 
ventured  his  craft  within  a  hundred  yards  of  it.  And 
when,  that  winter,  I  put  above  the  cottage  a  new  sort  of 
chimney-cowl,  the  police  could  be  seen  for  weeks  on  the 
hills  behind  the  cottage  inspecting  this  new  device  through 
their  glasses,  anxious  to  discover  what  manner  of  signal- 
ling apparatus  it  might  be.  For  so  they  expressed  their 
conviction  to  my  neighbours,  who  bore  the  startling  dis- 
covery to  me  in  a  twinkling. 

§6 

During  that  summer  of  1915  I  first  met  Michael 
O'Callaghan.  He  was  afterwards  Mayor  of  Limerick, 
and,  during  the  days  of  the  "  terror  "  in  1921,  he  was 
done  to  death  most  brutally  by  Black-and-Tans  even 
while  his  wife  sought  to  shield  and  protect  him.  He 
was  then  on  holiday  in  Achill;  a  business  man  who  neither 
desired  nor  held  any  place  in  politics. 

The  friendship  made  then  was  one  that  I  was  to 
treasure  deeply,  and  the  memory  of  which  must  always 
remain  for  me  as  one  of  the  possessions  that  men  keep 
in  a  secret  place  apart,  to  draw  forth  and  survey  when 
tides  run  strangely.    To  know  him  was  to  love  him.    He 

78 


THE     EUROPEAN     WAR 

once  described  Ardiur  Griffith  to  me  as  a  rock  among 
men.  The  descriptions  men  give  of  those  whom  they  most 
admire  are  often  best  clues  to  their  own  characters,  and 
certainly  no  one  could  better  have  described  Michael 
O'Callaghan  himself.  He  had  a  mind  of  rare  and  un- 
assuming independence.  He  took  his  judgments  from 
none,  being  little  influenced  by  the  common  run  of  opinion. 
He  framed  them  for  himself.  When  asked  for  them, 
he  delivered  his  mind  with  energy  of  manner  and  close- 
knit  sequence  of  logic,  yet  he  seldom  offered  them  till 
they  were  sought,  but  went  his  own  way  in  the  light 
of  his  own  vigorous,  robust  common  sense.  He  was  that 
rarer  thing  than  a  leader  of  men.  He  was  a  supremely 
great  citizen,  neither  obdurate  and  recalcitrant  nor  sub- 
servient and  pliant,  and  because  of  that,  when  he  died, 
his  loss  was  one  that  could  not  be  measured,  especially 
among  a  people  where  the  opposites  of  obduracy  and 
subserviency  are  the  rule.  Above  all,  he  was  intensely 
vital.  He  is  now  three  years  dead,  yet,  so  vital  was  he, 
his  death  seems  still  unbelievable,  and  if  he  were  to 
walk  into  this  room  even  while  I  write,  his  presence  would 
be  less  of  a  surprise  than  seems  the  conception  of  his 
absence. 

After  he  had  gone  we  corresponded  fairly  regularly, 
and  at  his  invitation  I  went  to  Limerick  the  following 
February  to  lecture  on  the  financial  consequences  of  the 
war  to  Ireland,  dragged  as  we  were  at  the  rear  of  British 
war-taxation  with  our  infinitely  smaller  resources.  After 
the  lecture  he  took  me  with  him  to  the  house  of  John 
Daly,  a  Fenian  hero  who  had  spent  bitter  years  in  gaol 
with  Tom  Clarke,  and  who  now  lived  in  the  hope  of 

79 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

seeing  Ireland  arise  in  armed  revolt.  In  proof  of  his 
constant  hope,  John  Daly  produced  for  me  one  of  the 
rifles  I  had  inspected  in  Liege,  one  of  the  rifles  of  the 
gun-running  at  Howth.  He  was  an  old  man,  enfeebled 
by  his  sufferings  and  stricken  in  years,  yet  he  laughed 
like  a  boy  as  he  fondled  that  rifle.  It  was,  he  said,  one 
of  the  signs  of  Ireland's  hope,  and  he  prayed  to  see  the 
day  when  it  might  be  called  to  service. 

While  he  and  I  spoke,  Michael  remarked  to  one  of  the 
daughters  of  the  house  that  he  had  seen  none  of  them  at 
the  lecture.  What  was  the  use  of  such  lectures,  was  the 
reply.  Ireland  would  be  an  independent  Republic  in  less 
than  three  months,  and  then  we  would  be  able  to  make 
our  own  financial  provisions,  without  subservient  appeals 
to  England.  Casually  and  quietly  was  this  said,  as  though 
one  were  to  announce  that  the  next  day  might  prove  wet. 
To  be  sure,  one  person's  cause  of  astonishment  is  the 
next  person's  commonplace,  but  the  saying,  and  the  cold 
contempt  of  its  delivery,  threw  a  silence  over  the  com- 
pany. That  the  words  were  not  idly  said  was  apparent, 
moreover,  from  the  significant  glances  that  were  ex- 
changed about  the  darkened  room,  and  already  in  that 
atmosphere  my  laboured  statistics  began  to  wear  an  air 
of  nonsensical  phantasy,  shrivelled  before  the  faith  that 
reigned  there  as  leaves  shrivel  before  a  fire. 

That  night  Michael  and  I  consumed  many  pipes  in 
talk  about  that  casual  intimation,  but  we  could  make 
nothing  of  it.  We  had  not  the  bricks  to  build  the  world 
that  the  household  we  had  lately  left  expected  so  happily 
to  inhabit.  From  every  point  of  view  we  surveyed  the 
matter,  but  we  were  baffled  at  every  turn,  and  by  the 

80 


THE    EUROPEAN    WAR 

next  morning  much  talk  had  put  it  out  of  our  minds. 
In  his  rapid,  gusty  manner,  Michael  laughed  at  the  words, 
and  then  quickly  added  of  their  speaker,  what  all  Ireland 
now  knows  to  be  true  of  her,  that  she  was  not  one  to 
speak  idly  or  to  greet  desperate  action  other  than  heartily 
and  happily. 

On  my  return  to  Achill  I  took  up  again  the  book  at 
which  I  was  at  work.  It  was  due  to  be  delivered  by  May, 
but  it  was  violently  interrupted,  and  has  never  been  con- 
tinued. While  Easter  hove  toward,  I  delved  deep  in 
Calendars  of  State  Papers,  finding  them  packed  with  so 
many  tangled  interests  that  it  was  difficult  to  hold  the 
trail  that  it  was  my  concern  to  follow.  About  a  fortnight 
before  Easter  I  received  a  short,  troubled  letter  from  Frank 
Sheehy  Skeffington,  in  which,  writing  of  another  matter, 
he  interjected  that  the  situation  in  Dublin  was  very  tense 
and  that  he  feared  a  storm  would  break. 

Little  I  dreamed,  as  I  read  his  letter,  how  soon  that 
storm  was  to  break,  and  that  not  its  least  consequence 
would  be  to  quench  the  life  of  the  sincerest  pacifist  I  have 
ever  met — who  spent  his  whole  life  fighting  every  sort 
and  manner  of  authority  for  the  right  of  the  individual 
conscience,  the  individual  freedom  of  life  and  the  indi- 
vidual habit  of  peace — and  who  died  amid  a  city  at 
battle  organizing  the  service  of  peace,  by  the  act  of  a 
man  in  whom  unbridled  authority  had  let  loose  a  criminal 
lust  for  domination. 


81 


T 


CHAPTER    FIVE 

EASTER  WEEK :  A  CHAPTER  IN  PARENTHESIS 

§i 

~^HE  hour  had  at  last  come  for  which  Tom  Clarke 
had  so  long  waited,  for  the  coming  of  which  he  had 
so  carefully  prepared.  Since  1907,  when  he  had  returned 
to  Ireland  from  America,  he  had  worked  but  for  one 
end,  and  now  the  very  conjunction  he  would  have  asked, 
hardly  dreaming  that  time  would  bring  it  to  his  hand, 
had  come  to  pass.  Armed  and  drilled  men  were  in 
Ireland,  and  England  was  at  war,  all  her  forces  thrown 
into  a  struggle  that  would  evidently  charge  her  strength 
to  the  utmost.  So  perfect  was  the  conjunction,  set  against 
the  tradition  of  Fenian  teaching,  of  which  he  was  the 
living  witness,  that  it  would  be  hardly  true  to  say  that  he 
willed  the  result.  Truer,  perhaps,  to  say  that  the  con- 
sequence followed  simply  and  punctually  in  his  mind, 
and  England  had  hardly  declared  war  before  he,  and 
those  he  had  gathered  about  him,  are  found  planning  and 
preparing  for  armed  insurrection. 

On  his  return  from  America  he  had  undertaken  the 
task  of  restoring  and  reorganizing  the  Irish  Republican 
Brotherhood — the  I.R.B.,  as  the  Brotherhood  was  known, 
for  short,  or  the  Fenians,  as  Padraic  Pearse  delighted  to 
call  them.  An  oath-bound,  secret  organization,  its  work 
was  done  under  cover.  Those  who  were  sworn  into  its 
ranks  knew  only  those  who  were  immediately  above  them, 

82 


EASTER    WEEK  I     A    CHAPTER    IN    PARENTHESIS 

from  whom  they  received  their  orders,  and  those  im- 
mediately below,  to  whom  those  orders  were  transmitted. 
As  such  it  might  have  lent  itself  to  powerful  political 
intrigue,  but  in  Tom  Clarke's  hands  and  in  his  day  of 
power  this  was  not  possible,  for  he  despised  politics,  and 
he  held  the  Brotherhood  aloof,  schooled  to  the  thought 
of  an  ultimate  appeal  to  arms. 

It  was  this  thought  to  which  he  gave  new  life  by  the 
service  of  an  inflexible  will  and  a  complete  disregard  of 
self.  In  suffering  he  had  acquired  the  rare  combination 
of  instant  readiness  and  undefeatable  patience.  Suffer- 
ing had  taught  him  to  think  in  long  distances.  There- 
fore, finding  the  Brotherhood  in  the  hands  of  men  of 
his  own  generation,  accustomed  rather  to  backward  than 
to  forward  glances,  he  had  taken  care  to  surround  him- 
self with  young  men,  by  whom  the  lamp  of  his  tradition 
might  be  trimmed,  uplifted  with  new  hope,  and  carried 
forward  in  a  braver  spirit,  himself  sitting  among  them, 
iron-grey,  spectacled,  and  watchful. 


§2 

Among  the  first  of  these  was  Sean  MacDermott.  He 
was  then  an  organizer  for  Sinn  Fein,  in  the  days  of  its 
early  strength,  and  as  such  he  was  a  close  friend  of 
Arthur  Griffith.  About  this  time  Arthur  Griffith  was 
himself  a  member  of  the  Brotherhood,  but  he  fell  out 
with  its  methods,  caused  himself  to  be  sworn  out  of  the 
organization,  and  always  afterwards  disagreed  strongly 
with  secret  societies.  To  the  end,  however,  Sean  Mac- 
Dermott remained  the  most  intimate  friend  of  both  men. 

83 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

In  him  an  insatiable  fire  burned,  consuming  all  natural 
desires  in  the  faith  by  which  he  lived.  There  was  hardly 
a  parish  in  Ireland  but  he  knew  it,  and  knew  every  man 
and  woman  in  it  in  whom  he  could  place  reliance  when 
work  was  needed  to  be  done.  Young  as  he  was  when 
he  was  shot  by  a  firing  squad  in  19 16,  he  had  ruined 
his  health  with  overwork,  and  walked  always  with  a 
limp,  as  the  result  of  a  stroke  he  had  received,  but  in 
his  steady  eyes  and  delicate  features  a  spirit  shone  that 
looked  beyond  all  ruin,  giving  him  an  intense  beauty, 
a  beauty  born  of  discipline  and  vision,  clear  and  of 
compelling  charm,  like  a  flame  shining  in  a  slight  crystal- 
like lanthorn  of  a  body. 

Some  years  later  Tom  Clarke  found  Padraic  Pearse. 
Rather,  it  was  John  Devoy  who  found  him  in  America, 
where  he  had  gone  to  collect  moneys  for  the  school  he 
had  established  at  St.  Enda  in  Rathfarnham.  Joining 
the  Brotherhood  on  his  return  to  Ireland,  he  rose  in  time 
to  a  position  of  pre-eminence.  He  was  a  man  of  great 
gifts.  His  writings  in  Irish  and  in  English  prove  him 
to  be  an  artist  of  no  mean  order,  sensitive  to  beauty,  a 
grave,  priest-like  man  with  his  own  vision  to  utter  and 
his  own  craft  to  find  for  it  expression.  But  he  put  his 
gifts  behind  him;  he  shut  eyes  and  ears  (as  far  as  a  man 
may  with  a  life  to  live)  lest  beauty  should  ensnare  him 
from  the  sacrifice  to  which  his  life  was  by  him  dedicated. 
Consciously,  with  a  quiet  seriousness  that  in  any  other 
man  might  have  been  priggish,  he  prepared  to  cast  away 
his  life  in  the  faith  that  out  of  the  ashes  of  sacrifice  the 
phoenix  of  a  new  life  for  Ireland  might  arise. 

It  is  told  that  as  a  boy,  reading  Irish  history,  he  had 

84 


EASTER    WEEK  :     A    CHAPTER    IN    PARENTHESIS 

declared  that  he  would  die  for  Ireland;  and  he  was  not 
one  with  whom  boyish  declarations  are  lightly  forgotten, 
buried  under  the  lumber  of  years  or  dusty  with  wayfaring. 
Something  of  the  simple,  uncomplicated  gravity  of  boy- 
hood remained  with  him  to  the  end.  In  this  very  year 
he  wrote  one  of  the  most  beautiful  of  modern  Irish  poems, 
of  which  the  following  is  a  translation,  the  grave,  beautiful 
music  gone  bare  in  the  rendering: 

Naked  I  saw  thee, 

0  beauty   of  beauty, 
And  I  blinded  my  eyes 
For  fear  I  should  fail. 

1  heard  thy  music, 

0  melody  of  melody, 
And  I  closed  my  ears 
For  fear  I  should  falter. 

1  tasted  thy  mouth, 

0  sweetness  of  sweetness, 
And  I  hardened  my  heart 
For  fear  of  my  slaying. 

1  blinded  my  eyes 
And  I  closed  my  ears, 
I  hardened  my  heart 

And  I  smothered  my  desire. 

I  turned  my  back 
On  the  vision  I  had  shaped, 
And  to  this  road  before  me 
I  turned  my  face. 

I  have  turned  my  face 
To  this  road  before  me, 
To  the  deed  that  I  see 
And  the  death  I  shall  die. 

85 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

It  was  in  this  mood  Padraic  Pearse  prepared  for  insur- 
rection, not  in  the  hope  of  success,  but  in  the  conviction 
of  a  necessity  for  sacrifice.  Such  moods  are  unconquerable, 
and  his  slow-moving  body,  his  silent  manner  and  heavy, 
obstinate  mouth  and  chin,  had  something  unconquerable 
about  them  too.  If  it  was  Tom  Clarke  who  brought 
down  the  lamp  of  tradition,  and  held  it  firmly,  without 
any  thought  for  himself,  until  others  were  ready  to  take 
it  from  him;  if  it  was  Sean  MacDermott  who  served  the 
organization  of  revolt  with  a  fire  that  burned  in  him  with 
a  consuming  flame,  it  was  Padraic  Pearse  who  gave  in- 
surrection a  philosophy  that  was  also  a  religion.  And 
with  him  came  others  of  smaller  mould,  Thomas  Mac- 
Donagh  and  Joseph  Plunkett,  who  were  in  some  sort 
disciples  of  his,  who  had  received  from  him  his  doctrine 
that  from  the  ashes  of  sacrifice  would  arise  the  new  spirit 
of  a  nation. 

At  the  other  end  stood  two  men  of  a  different  quality. 
One  of  these  was  Eamonn  Ceannt,  a  dark,  proud,  aloof 
man,  of  so  extreme  a  sensitiveness  that  he  had  schooled 
himself  to  wear  for  mask  a  cold  and  rigid  manner. 
Padraic  Pearse's  doctrine  found  small  echo  in  him.  He 
went  into  insurrection  looking  for  victory  because  the 
thought  of  defeat  chafed  his  intractable  spirit.  He  spoke 
with  cold  contempt  of  Padraic  Pearse's  slow  and  moving 
eloquence  and  appeal  to  sentiment  as  "  green-flaggery." 
He  would  have  none  of  it.  It  revolted  his  pride.  The 
straight,  nervous  blow  was,  for  him,  its  own  jurisdiction, 
needing  no  other;  and  if  defeat  came,  such  as  warriors 
could  not  prevent,  it  would  at  least  not  touch  to  tarnish 
his  pride. 

86 


EASTER    WEEK  I     A    CHAPTER    IN    PARENTHESIS 

The  other  was  James  Connolly.  In  many  ways  he  was 
the  master-intellect  of  them  all — among  the  master- 
intellects  of  his  people — but  the  splendid,  massive 
machinery  of  his  mind  often  produced  results  that  were 
bewilderingly  disproportionate  to  the  intricate  process  by 
which  they  had  been  created.  Of  middle  height,  sturdy 
of  frame  and  broad  of  brow,  he  suggested,  and  his 
Northern  accent  conveyed,  the  thought  of  a  realist  who 
lived  to  slay  illusions.  On  the  platform  there  were  few 
more  trenchant  speakers  than  he.  He  would  sit,  a  life- 
less heap,  the  picture  of  gloom,  till  it  came  to  his  time 
to  speak,  when  with  three  strides  he  would  throw  off  his 
gloom  like  a  cloak,  and  pour  out  eloquence  like  molten 
metal  that  scorched  and  burned  all  before  it.  In  con- 
versation he  was  quick  to  bring  argument  to  the  test  of 
practical  fact,  and  he  ranged  through  Irish  history  for  the 
advance  of  such  tests,  showing  a  reading  as  deep  as 
voluminous,  including  books  and  documents  difficult  to 
obtain.  Even  for  a  student  of  leisure  the  range  of  his 
reading  would  have  been  unexpected — for  one  who  was, 
as  he  was,  self-taught  it  was  extraordinary,  and  in  the  cir- 
cumstances of  his  case  it  was  also  peculiar,  for  it  was 
grouped  about  the  economic  and  social  doctrine  on  which 
his  national  faith  was  based. 

Yet  he,  the  mocker  of  national  illusions,  nursed 
illusions  that  none  of  the  others  did.  Already,  before 
the  European  War,  he  had,  on  at  least  one  other  occasion, 
advocated  armed  insurrection  in  the  hope  of  a  capitalist 
downfall,  and  now  it  was  he  who  clamoured  for 
immediate  action,  impatient  at  the  delays  of  preparation. 
It  was  he  who  was  mainly  responsible   during  Easter 

87 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

Week  for  the  mistaken  strategy  of  occupying  public  build- 
ings that  were  a  target  for  artillery.  He  believed  that 
the  capitalist,  class  of  one  country  would  never  destroy 
the  buildings  that  were  the  pride  of  the  capitalist  class 
of  another.  He  worked  with  the  others,  but  from  a  differ- 
ent angle,  relying  on  his  own  separate  organization,  the 
Citizens'  Army,  a  purely  Labour  force  created  from  the 
ranks  of  the  Irish  Transport  and  General  Workers'  Union. 
Others  there  were,  too,  who  were  to  come  into  promin- 
ence later,  but  who  at  that  time  held  positions  of  lesser 
importance.  There  was  Eamon  de  Valera,  Professor  of 
Mathematics  at  Maynooth.  During  1915  he  was  pro- 
moted Adjutant  of  the  Dublin  Brigade  of  the  Irish 
Volunteers.  His  immediate  superior  was  Thomas  Mac- 
Donagh,  who  walked  with  him  of  a  night,  after  brigade 
duties  were  finished,  thrilling  him  while  he  announced 
Pearse's  evangel  of  a  national  awakening  as  the  conse- 
quence of  human  sacrifice.  There  was  Cathal  Brugha, 
Eamonn  Ceannt's  second  in  command  in  the  fourth 
battalion,  grim,  tense,  uncommunicative,  and  utterly 
fearless.  There  was  Richard  Mulcahy  in  the  second 
battalion.  And  there  was  William  T.  Cosgrave,  also  of 
the  fourth  battalion,  whose  pale,  perpetually  surprised  and 
abashed  appearance,  innocent,  large,  light-blue  eyes  and 
flock  of  flaxen  hair,  and  generally  mild  and  innocent 
demeanour,  belied  his  innate  Dublin  pugnacity. 

§3 

Such  were  some  of  the  more  conspicuous  personalities 
(conspicuous  then  or  thereafter)  by  whom  insurrection 

88 


EASTER    WEEK  :     A    CHAPTER    IN    PARENTHESIS 

was  to  be  undertaken.  But  it  was  by  the  first  three  of 
these — Tom  Clarke,  Sean  MacDermott,  and  Padraic 
Pearse — that  the  decision  was  made  and  the  plans  laid. 
By  them,  the  year  before,  the  Volunteer  Movement  had 
been  started.  By  them  it  had  been  decided  to  invite 
Eoin  MacNeill  to  assume  the  presidency  of  the  new 
movement.  By  them  it  had  been  decided  to  eject  John 
Redmond's  nominees  on  the  Provisional  Committee  when 
the  idea  of  insurrection  was  clearly  formed  in  their  minds. 
By  them,  incidentally,  local  commanders  with  minds  of 
their  own  (such  as  one  who  lived  in  Achill)  were  removed, 
as  a  necessary  step  to  unity  of  conception  and  purpose. 
And  by  them  long  and  careful  preparations  were  now 
begun  with  a  view  to  a  blow  being  struck  at  the  most 
suitable  moment. 

All  these  measures  were  taken  by  the  Supreme  Council 
of  the  I.R.B.,  of  which  they  were  the  chief  leaders. 
Within  a  few  days  of  the  declaration  of  war  Dr.  Patrick 
McCartan  was  sent  to  America,  to  get  into  touch  there 
with  the  leaders  of  the  affiliated  society,  the  Clan  na  Gael. 
Even  before  his  going,  however,  a  message  had  been  sent 
to  America  informing  the  leaders  there  of  the  intention 
to  take  advantage  of  the  war  for  an  armed  rebellion, 
and  as  a  consequence  of  this  message  negotiations  had 
been  opened  with  Count  Bernstorff,  the  German 
Ambassador  there,  for  the  provision  of  arms  and  military 
help  but  not  money.  On  his  arrival  Dr.  McCartan  was 
informed  of  these  negotiations,  and  furnished  with  money, 
provided  by  the  Clan  na  Gael,  to  help  the  organization 
in  Ireland. 

There  he  met  Sir  Roger  Casement,  in  whose  hands  a 

89 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

critical  part  of  the  negotiations  was  to  be  carried.  Long 
before  the  war  Sir  Roger  Casement  had  come  to  the  con- 
viction that  the  only  hope  of  Irish  Freedom — either  for 
its  achievement  or  for  its  maintenance  when  achieved — 
was  in  an  American-Irish-German  alliance.  He  had 
written  a  pamphlet  preaching  such  an  alliance.  Only  by 
such  an  alliance,  he  held,  could  the  control  of  the 
Atlantic,  the  most  important  of  the  seas  for  the  future 
of  history,  be  wrested  from  Great  Britain.  Only  by  the 
wresting  of  that  control  could  Ireland  be  assured  of 
national  independence,  or  the  other  two  nations  be 
assured  of  freedom  for  their  commerce.  The  alliance, 
therefore,  he  maintained,  was  indicated  by  nature  and 
necessity,  and  he  conceived  it  as  his  task  to  bring  it  to 
pass. 

If  other  men  had  conceived  such  a  project,  however 
strongly  it  was  knit  by  logic,  it  would  have  lain  in  their 
minds  rather  as  a  matter  of  intellectual  interest  than  of 
practical  politics.  The  more  complete  the  logic,  indeed, 
the  more  remote  would  it  have  been  and  the  more  idle. 
That,  however,  was  not  the  texture  of  Sir  Roger  Case- 
ment's mind.  The  more  impossible  the  task  the  greater 
the  fascination  it  held  for  him.  It  was  not  easy  to  stir 
him  to  simple,  ordinary,  workaday  tasks.  To  them  he 
would  listen  with  but  the  surface  of  his  mind,  erect  and 
dignified  and  remote,  with  not  a  sign  of  interest  on  his 
pale,  handsome  face,  and  his  eyes  looking  out  over  some 
other  world  of  high  romantic  adventure.  Only  the  diffi- 
cult and  daring  could  truly  enkindle  his  imagination,  and 
the  more  impossible  a  task  seemed  the  more  certain  was 
it  of  stirring  his  whole  interest. 

90 


EASTER    WEEK  :     A    CHAPTER    IN    PARENTHESIS 

He  had  proved  that  he  could  make  possible  the  im- 
possible, ride  single-handed  with  success  against  vast 
powers,  and  unite  romance  and  practice.  When  he 
had  dared  into  the  Congo,  a  solitary  figure,  with 
only  his  will,  compassion,  and  sense  of  adventure  to 
sustain  him,  he  had  opposed  to  him  the  entire  Belgian 
administration  of  that  territory;  he  had  before  him  a  vast, 
fever-stricken,  almost  uncharted  land,  in  the  "  heart  of 
darkness,"  with  monsters  of  cruelty  like  dragons  to  be 
slain  in  the  midst  of  that  darkness;  and  he  had  behind 
him  the  knowledge  that  the  British  Government,  whose 
servant  he  was,  must  disown  him  in  the  event  of  failure. 
Yet  he  succeeded,  and  became  one  of  the  chief,  and 
certainly  one  of  the  most  romantic,  figures  of  the  world 
of  the  time.  It  is  doubtful  if  any  other  man  could  have 
succeeded.  It  is  certain  that  no  other  man  would  have 
attempted  the  task. 

It  was  the  same  on  the  Putamayo,  to  which  his  atten- 
tion next  turned.  Here  the  difficulties  were  even  more 
formidable,  the  territory  even  more  distant,  dark,  and 
unknown.  One  who  knew  the  territory  (whose  interest, 
as  it  happened,  had  been  greatly  injured  by  Sir  Roger 
Casement's  exposure  of  the  cruelties  done  there)  orrce 
said  to  me  that  he  did  not  believe  that  the  world  had 
any  more  courageous  act  to  show  than  Sir  Roger  Case- 
ment's adventure  there.  Not  only,  he  said,  was  Nature 
against  him,  by  night  and  day,  to  destroy  him  among 
the  living,  but  he  had  also  the  knowledge  that  any  morsel 
of  food  he  put  into  his  mouth  might  be  poisoned,  and 
would  be  poisoned  if  corruption  and  skill  could  achieve 
it;  for  he  was  known  as  the  man  who  had  exposed  the 

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RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

evils  done  in  the  Congo  territory — a  man  who  was  hated 
because  he  was  feared,  who,  if  he  was  not  himself  un- 
done, would  undo  the  harvest  of  profit  that  flourished 
by  cruelty.  Yet  here,  too,  he  had  succeeded.  He  had, 
finally,  ruined  his  health,  but  he  had  won;  he  had  made 
possible  the  impossible,  and  he  had  received  the  meed 
of  praise  among  men  that  only  indisputable  success  is 
judged  worthy  to  receive. 

He  was,  therefore,  no  mean  protagonist,  however 
seemingly  fantastical  the  project  that  kindled  his  imagina- 
tion and  aroused  his  interest.  Truly,  an  American-Irish- 
German  alliance  now  seems  fantastical  indeed,  though  it 
is  right  to  remember  that  time  and  all  that  has  happened 
since  has  made  it  to  seem  more  fantastical  now  that  it 
seemed  early  in  1914.  Yet  the  task  in  prospect  was  not 
more  impossible  than  the  hope  of  slaying  the  dragons  of 
the  Congo  and  Para,  and  the  mere  act  of  attempting  it 
would  of  itself  spell  the  beginning  of  success,  for  it 
would  publish  the  idea  in  association  with  the  esteem 
attached  to  his  name. 

Sometime  early  in  1913  he  had  formed  the  idea,  and 
no  one  could  speak  with  him  about  it  without  realizing 
how  deeply  it  had  captured  his  imagination.  Everything 
in  him  answered  to  its  fascination.  Romance  beckoned 
to  him.  Was  not  he  an  Irishman,  whose  people  had  for 
centuries  fought  for  Freedom  in  vain?  A  high  and  diffi- 
cult task  beckoned  to  him.  What  more  difficult  could 
engage  all  his  daring?  But  he  was  put  out  of  the  im- 
mediate road  towards  this  goal,  first  by  the  organization 
of  the  Volunteers,  that  took  him  into  all  parts  of  Ireland, 
and  then  by  the  organization  of  the  gun-running.    It  was 

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not,  therefore,   till  June  of  1914  that  he  had  left  for 
America  to  begin  the  foundations  of  his  work. 

There  the  outbreak  of  the  World  War  found  him. 
Hard  upon  the  heels  of  that  outbreak  came  news  from 
Ireland  that  it  was  hoped  to  take  occasion  of  that  war 
for  an  armed  insurrection.  Instantly  a  new  practical 
meaning  was  given  to  his  original  conception,  and  he  at 
once  planned  to  leave  for  Germany,  to  begin  his  work 
now  for  that  end. 

u 

There  was,  therefore,  a  certain  distance  (not  fully 
apparent  to  either  of  them  at  that  time)  between  his 
ideas  and  the  ideas  of  the  leaders  of  the  I.R.B.  in  Ireland 
and  the  Clan  na  Gael  in  America.  They  were  planning 
simply  for  an  insurrection  in  Ireland;  his  thoughts  em- 
braced a  wider  circle,  of  which  Ireland  was  the  centre. 
Moreover,  their  habits  of  work  were  different.  They 
worked  in  and  through  the  organizations  of  which  they 
were  the  leaders.  He  brooded  apart  by  himself,  and 
struck  out  his  own  line  of  labour,  consulting  with  men 
from  whom  they  thought  it  well  to  withhold  their 
secrets.  It  was  perhaps  inevitable  that  they  and  he 
should  before  long  lose  that  intimate  touch  and  con- 
sultation with  one  another,  especially  while  he  was  in 
Germany,  where  private  news  could  not  be  passed  except 
at  great  risk,  without  which  perfect  understanding  could 
not  be  reached. 

Within  three  weeks  of  the  outbreak  of  war,  on  the 
25th  of  August,  a  letter  was  sent  from  the  leaders  of 
the  Clan  na  Gael  to  the  Kaiser  urging  him  to  make  the 

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RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

Freedom  of  Ireland  one  of  Germany's  war  aims.  This 
letter  was  signed  by  all  the  members  of  the  executive 
of  the  Clan  as  well  as  by  others,  but  it  was  written  by 
Sir  Roger  Casement.  That  fad  could,  indeed,  be  easily 
traced  by  the  thread  of  argument.  "  The  British  claim," 
the  letter  said,  "to  control  the  seas  of  the  world  refts 
chiefly  on  an  unnamed  fador.  That  fador  is  Ireland.  .  .  . 
We  are  profoundly  convinced  that  so  long  as  Great  Britain 
is  allowed  to  control,  exploit,  and  misappropriate  Ireland 
and  all  Irish  resources — whether  of  men,  material,  wealth, 
or  strategic  position — she  will  dominate  the  seas.  Thus 
the  Freedom  of  Ireland  becomes  of  paramount — nay,  of 
vital — importance  to  the  larger  question  of  the  seas."  In 
phrases  such  as  these  the  very  accent  of  his  voice  may  be 
heard;  but  it  was  not  of  such  thoughts  that  the  minds  of 
the  men  in  Ireland  were  full  while  they  struggled  to 
perfed  the  organization  of  insurredion,  and  through  the 
Clan  na  Gael  and  the  German-American  Embassy  com- 
municated their  needs  by  wireless  to  Berlin. 

Shortly  afterwards,  on  the  15th  of  Odober,  Sir  Roger 
Casement,  disguised  and  with  a  false  passport,  left 
America  by  way  of  Norway  for  Germany.  There  he 
at  once  got  into  touch  with  the  German  Foreign  Office, 
but  it  was  not  long  before  he  discovered  that  the  thoughts 
of  Germany  ran  not  to  Ireland  in  the  Atlantic.  They 
were  too  occupied  with  affairs  in  Europe,  having  been 
long  trained  to  busy  themselves  only  with  the  chancel- 
leries encircled  there.  Nothing  can  better  display  the 
disillusionment  and  despair  that  settled  on  him,  even 
during  the  early  months  after  his  arrival,  than  his  com- 
ments in  his  own  diaries. 

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11 1  thought  of  Ireland,"  he  wrote  on  the  2nd  of 
November,  immediately  on  his  arrival,  "  the  land  I 
should  almost  fatally  never  see  again.  Only  a  miracle 
of  victory  could  ever  bring  me  to  her  shores.  That  I  did 
not  expect — cannot,  in  truth,  hope  for.  But,  victory  or 
defeat,  it  is  all  for  Ireland.  And  she  cannot  suffer  from 
what  I  do.  I  may,  I  must  suffer — and  even  those  near 
and  dear  to  me — but  my  country  can  only  gain  from  my 
treason.  Whatever  comes  that  must  be  so.  If  I  win  all 
it  is  national  resurrection — a  free  Ireland,  a  world-nation 
after  centuries  of  slavery,  a  people  lost  in  the  Middle 
Ages  refound  and  returned  to  Europe.  If  I  fail,  if 
Germany  be  defeated,  still  the  blow  struck  to-day  for 
Ireland  must  change  the  course  of  British  policy  towards 
that  country.  Things  will  never  be  again  quite  the  same. 
The  '  Irish  Question  '  will  have  been  lifted  from  the  mire 
and  mud  and  petty,  false  strife  of  British  domestic  politics 
into  an  international  atmosphere.  That,  at  least,  I  shall 
have  achieved." 

A  few  weeks  later,  on  the  12th  of  Decembf,  he 
wrote:  'In  my  heart  I  am  very  sorry  I  came!  I  do 
not  think  the  German  Government  has  any  soul  for  great 
enterprises;  it  lacks  the  Divine  spark  of  imagination  that 
has  ennobled  British  piracy.  The  seas  may  be  freed  by 
these  people,  but  I  doubt  it.  They  will  do  it  in  their 
sleep — and  without  intending  to  achieve  anything  so 
great."  On  the  1st  of  February  he  retails  a  series  of  events 
that,  he  writes,  "  made  me  feel  that  I  had  made  an  awful 
fool  of  myself  in  ever  believing  that  this  Government 
would  help  Ireland.  I  never  recovered  faith  in  them." 
And  he  adds  a  forlorn  and  biting  irony :   "  Since  that 

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RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

affair  many  other  things  have  passed  that  recalled  the 
incident.  I  have  already  told  you  of  Count  Oberndorff 
at  Christiania  assuring  me  that  BernsdorfT's  letter  of 
introduction  was  in  a  cipher  '  they  did  not  understand! ' 
This  was  written  on  the  very  day  that  he  wrote  his 
public  letter  to  Sir  Edward  Grey  returning  the  Order  and 
medal,  title  and  honour,  he  had  received  in  the  service  of 
the  British  Government,  and  saying :  "  I  came  to  Europe  ' 
from  the  United  States  last  October  in  order  to  make  sure 
that,  whatever  might  be  the  course  of  this  war,  my  own 
country,  Ireland,  should  suffer  from  it  the  minimum  of 
harm."  But  it  is  evident  that  by  that  time  he  had  already 
lost  faith  in  the  enterprise  in  the  hope  of  which  he  had 
set  forth. 

§5 

His,  however,  was  not  the  enterprise  that  lit  the  minds 
of  the  men  in  Dublin — an  enterprise  that  was  so  deeply 
to  change  the  psychology  of  a  nation — though  the  two, 
having  gone  asunder,  were  to  run  together  so  tragically 
in  the  end.  From  whatever  different  angles  of  tempera- 
ment these  men  regarded  their  task,  they  looked,  not  to 
the  seas  of  the  world,  not  even,  in  any  great  measure,  to 
European  wars  and  policies,  but  to  an  armed  insurrection 
in  Ireland  and  the  immediate  and  ultimate  fruits  to  be 
gathered  as  a  result  of  that  insurrection.  Tom  Clarke 
might  think  of  a  return  of  the  Fenian  tradition,  Sean 
MacDermott  of  a  work  begun  that  others  should  con- 
tinue, Padraic  Pearse  of  a  reborn  nation  rising  like  a 
phoenix  from  the  ashes  of  sacrifice,  Eamonn  Ceannt  of  a 
blow  long  overdue  and  soon  to  be  struck,  and  James 

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EASTER    WEEK  :     A    CHAPTER    IN    PARENTHESIS 

Connolly  of  a  revolt  of  the  working  people  to  change 
the  whole  course  of  social  and  economic  history  in 
Ireland,  but  all  their  thoughts  began  with  and  centred 
upon  the  actual  revolt  and  its  organization;  and  so  com- 
pletely were  they  centred  upon  that  event  that  (whether 
they  knew  it  or  not)  their  hearts  were  utterly  committed 
to  it,  whatever  might  happen  elsewhere — unlike  Case- 
ment, who,  with  his  mind  disengaged  by  bitter  disillu- 
sionment, was  free  to  think  of  retraction  and  withdrawal. 
They  and  he  were  widely  divided,  and  they  recognized 
this,  while  he  did  not. 

All  in  Ireland,  however,  were  not  so  committed — only 
a  little  isolated  circle,  responsible  to  none  but  their  own 
resolution,  knowing  that  the  great  mass  of  the  people 
served  gods  whom  they  hated,  working  their  will  by  a 
secret  society,  and  determined  to  keep  their  plans  close 
even  from  their  own  associates  until  they  were  ready  for 
action.     In  Ireland,  too,  therefore,  there  was  division. 

There  was,  in  fact,  division  within  division.  The 
little  isolated  circle  was  much  smaller  and  much  more 
remote  than  were  the  Volunteers  themselves.  The 
President,  and  later  the  Chief  of  Staff,  of  the  Irish 
Volunteers  was  Professor  Eoin  MacNeill.  He  it  was 
whom  the  country  saw  at  the  head  of  the  movement, 
and,  indeed,  the  Volunteers  were  often  called  after  his 
name.  By  those  who  planned  insurrection  this  was 
welcomed,  for  it  masked  the  fact  that  the  real  control 
and  decision  lay  elsewhere,  not  to  be  revealed  until  the 
moment  had  come  for  the  candour  of  the  first  rifle-shot. 
Eoin  MacNeill  might  preside  at  meetings  of  the  Volun- 
teer Executive  Committee,  but  knowledge  of  what  was 

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RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

being  planned  was  withheld  from  him.  He  was  left  to 
figure  before  public  attention,  while  the  real  work  was 
done  elsewhere. 

This  was   done  deliberately,  because  it  was  judged 
essential  that  the  closes!:  secrecy  should  be  maintained 
until   it   was   too   late   for   withdrawal.      Secrecy   was, 
indeed,  more  closely  tightened.     The  Supreme  Council 
of  the  I.R.B.  was  itself  a  body  the  identity  of  which  not 
many  knew;  but  even  that  body  was  abolished.     It  was 
displaced  by  an  inner  Military  Council,   consisting  of 
Tom   Clarke,  Sean   MacDermott,   Padraic   Pearse,   and 
Joseph  Plunkett.    Not  many  of  the  Volunteer  Executive 
knew  of  the  existence  of  this  Military  Council,  however 
they  might  guess  at  its  existence.     But  it  was  by  this 
body,  working  through  the  secret  organization  of  the 
I.R.B. ,  that  the  Volunteers  were  controlled,  and  were 
presented  at  last  with  the  fact  of  insurrection.     Roger 
Casement  in  Germany  and  Eoin  MacNeill  in  Ireland 
were  both  kept  from  knowledge;  and  thus  it  was  that 
they  joined  together  on  the  eve  of  action  in  a  desperate 
effort  to  stop  insurrection  at  the  last  moment. 

Yet  all  worked  together  at  the  task  of  organizing  the 
Irish  Volunteers,  and  this  task  was  formidable  enough. 
The  bulk  of  the  original  Volunteers  had  gone  with  John 
Redmond  into  the  National  Volunteers,  and  only  a  few 
thousand  through  the  country,  in  scattered  handfuls, 
remained  with  the  Irish  Volunteers.  These  scattered 
handfuls  became  known  generally,  and  increasingly  as 
the  months  passed,  as  the  Sinn  Fein  Volunteers.  It  was 
during  19 15,  in  fact,  that  the  public  for  the  first  time 
definitely  associated  Sinn  Fein  and  the  Irish  Volunteers 

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EASTER    WEEK  :     A    CHAPTER    IN    PARENTHESIS 

as  indistinguishable  parts  of  one  movement — an  associa- 
tion that  was  to  prove  of  the  greatest  moment  in  the 
future,  although  the  two  movements  were  not  only,  then 
and  thereafter,  separate,  but  actually  in  many  respects 
opposed  to  one  another.  Both  Tom  Clarke  and  Padraic 
Pearse,  for  example,  strongly  repudiated  identity  with 
Sinn  Fein,  disagreed  with  its  purely  civil  policy,  and  pre- 
ferred to  be  known  as  Fenian  and  Republican.  But  it 
was  inevitable  diat  the  Irish  people  should  consider  both 
sections  of  the  protesting  minority  as  parts  of  a  single 
whole,  for  the  two  played  into  one  another's  hands,  and 
between  them  they  faced  the  heavy  task  of  breaking  the 
people  away  from  the  lead  that  John  Redmond  and  the 
Parliamentary  leaders  had  so  successfully  given. 

During  these  days  "  Sinn  Fein ':  was  a  title  of 
opprobrium.  It  was  the  title  of  a  small  minority,  con- 
sidered to  be  more  noisy  than  numerous,  expostulant  yet 
powerless.  Sinn  Fein  speakers  argued  the  case  for  Irish 
neutrality  in  the  war,  and  Irish  Volunteers,  especially  in 
Dublin,  paraded  and  conducted  military  manoeuvres  in 
the  most  daring  fashion;  but  the  mass  of  the  people 
followed  the  lead  of  John  Redmond,  and  it  is  a  simple 
fact  that  at  this  time  Irish  recruits  went  to  the  war  in 
Europe  in  numbers,  proportionately  to  the  population 
they  represented,  not  less  heavy  than  those  of  England. 

As  the  months  passed  this  changed.  Recruiting 
flagged.  John  Redmond's  influence  waned,  and  criticism 
gathered  about  his  name.  News  came  of  heavy  Irish 
casualty  lists,  as  a  consequence,  it  was  said,  of  the  front 
positions  into  which  Irish  regiments  were  always  placed. 
A  coalition  British  Government  was  formed,  in  which 

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RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

Sir  Edward  Carson  held  high  position,  and  the  people 
wondered  in  suspicion  as  to  the  meaning  of  these  things. 
But  the  people  did  not  join  Sinn  Fein;  they  did  not  cease 
to  use  the  title  as  a  term  of  scorn;  they  did  not  help  in 
any  substantial  measure  to  augment  the  ranks  of  the  Irish 
Volunteers.  The  Military  Council  might  plan  an  armed 
insurrection,  it  might  send  messengers  to  America,  there 
to  arrange  the  nature  and  condition  of  German  assistance, 
but  the  task  before  it,  as  it  worked  in  secret,  seemed  like 
that  to  which  Sisyphus  was  committed  in  the  fable, 
destined  ever  to  remain  at  beginnings. 

§6 

During  this  summer  of  1915  two  events  occurred  that 
were  to  change  the  entire  future.  The  effect  of  the 
first  was  almost  immediate.  The  effect  of  the  second  was 
not  to  be  realized  for  some  time,  and  was  then  completely 
from  within  to  change  the  social  and  political  history  of 
Ireland. 

In  June  Jeremiah  O'Donovan  Rossa  died  in  America. 
He  had  been  one  of  the  leaders  of  the  Fenians  of  '67 — 
he  dated,  indeed,  from  the  ill-fated  Phoenix  Conspiracy 
of  '58,  when  he  had  flung  aside  his  historical  studies  to 
organize  the  Republican  Brotherhood.  He  was  thus  of  the 
Fenian  generation  before  Tom  Clarke,  and  it  was  expected 
that  he  should  be  buried  in  the  Fenian  plot  at  Glasnevin 
Cemetery. 

Now  the  people  hated  Fenians  and  rebels  of  their  own 
hour,  no  doubt  as  a  reflex  of  the  affectionate  reverence  in 
which  they  held  the  memory  of  the  Fenians  and  rebels 

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EASTER    WEEK  :     A    CHAPTER    IN    PARENTHESIS 

of  history.  But  the  organizers  of  insurrection  were  quick 
to  draw  down  about  their  own  heads  the  halo  that  is 
the  safe  prerogative  of  history,  and  they  did  so  knowing 
full  well  that  no  one  would  more  gladly  have  been  willing 
to  bestow  that  halo  than  the  dead  chief.  Communications 
were  therefore  at  once  opened  with  America  for  a  funeral 
that  would  outdo  all  records,  beginning  in  America  and 
rising  in  crescendo  to  a  climax  at  Glasnevin  of  so  immense 
a  kind  as  to  ensure  that  the  attention  of  all  Ireland  would 
centre  about  the  Fenian  plot.  And  at  that  moment,  while 
a  salvo  of  musketry  (in  an  Ireland  where  arms  were  for- 
bidden) was  fired  over  the  grave,  Padraic  Pearse  would  in 
his  slow  and  simple  eloquence  utter  the  Fenian  creed  and 
praise  the  Fenian  deed. 

So  it  befell,  not  merely  as  it  was  planned,  but  in  a 
manner  and  on  a  scale  that  outdid  expectation.  The 
funeral  was,  in  fact,  the  first  of  a  series  of  mighty  funerals 
that  were,  during  the  next  six  years,  to  draw  deputations 
from  every  parish  of  Ireland  at  critical  moments  of  history. 
The  British  military  and  the  police  were  withdrawn  from 
the  streets  of  Dublin,  and  the  Volunteers  took  complete 
control  of  the  city.  It  was  they  who  issued  regulations 
for  traffic,  they  who  appointed  pickets  to  order  the  huge 
multitude,  they  who  arranged  for  special  trains  from 
every  part  of  Ireland,  they  who  caused  these  trains  to  be 
met  from  early  that  Sunday  morning,  so  that  the  people 
who  arrived  from  the  country  might  know  exactly  where 
to  go  and  what  to  do.  While  the  coffin  lay  in  state, 
first  at  the  City  Hall  and  then  at  the  Pro-Cathedral,  they 
formed  the  guard  of  honour.  And  everywhere  the  green 
uniform  was  to  be  seen,  while  the  khaki  was  withdrawn, 

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RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

the  hand  of  the  dead  man  being  upheld  over  the  city 
for  a  protection  that  the  laws  of  the  land  could  not 
disregard. 

It  was  a  remarkable  transfiguration.  Not  less  remark- 
able was  the  fact  that  the  Parliamentary  leaders  had  no 
part  in  these  celebrations.  They  were  helpless.  History 
had  been  invoked  against  them,  and  they  could  do 
nothing.  How  could  they,  while  urging  Irishmen  to 
enlist  in  the  British  Army,  celebrate  the  passing  of  one 
whose  place  in  history  had  been  won  because  he  had 
fought  against  that  army?  Many  of  them  desired  to  do 
so,  but  the  Volunteers  were  determined  that  they  should 
not,  and  they  dared  not  publicly  contest  that  decision. 
Their  own  followers  formed  the  overwhelming  majority 
of  those  who  thronged  into  Dublin  during  these  days. 
Indeed,  their  own  political  organizations  bore  banners 
in  the  funeral  procession.  But  they  were  compelled  to 
stand  aside,  while  their  followers  were  marshalled,  led, 
and,  over  an  open  grave,  addressed  by  men  who  com- 
manded no  political  following  at  all,  and  who,  the  week 
before,  had  been  spoken  of  lightly  throughout  the  country 
as  "  the  Sinn  Feiners." 

For  those  who  can  see  beyond  the  events  that  confront 
them  to  the  historical  life  of  which  these  events  are  but  a 
stirring  and  tumultuous  phantasm,  that  Sunday  of  June  in 
Dublin  staged  a  strange  spectacle.  So  evidently  thought 
the  companion  who  walked  beside  me  in  the  funeral  pro- 
cession. He  was  a  man  of  middle  age,  who  had  come 
from  Co.  Mayo.  "  The  tide  is  turning — the  tide  is  turn- 
ing at  last,"  he  whispered  to  me  excitedly.  "  The  people 
are  answering  to  the  old  call."    The  old  call,  the  ancient 

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EASTER    WEEK  :     A    CHAPTER    IN    PARENTHESIS 

habit !  New  life  responding  to  the  con  jury  of  the  past. 
New  forces  of  unrest  for  the  future  being  created  un- 
consciously while  a  people  followed  a  dead  man  to  his 
last  rest.     It  was  certainly  all  that. 

It  was  to  this  inevitable  theme  that  Padraic  Pearse 
addressed  himself  in  his  funeral  oration.  I  stood  opposite 
him  across  the  grave  while  in  his  slow  passion  and  de- 
liberate eloquence  he  read  his  speech,  and  I  can  see  him 
yet  as  he  flung  back  his  head,  and  can  hear  him  yet 
as  his  voice  rose  to  the  close.  "  The  defenders  of  this 
realm  have  worked  well  in  secret  and  in  the  open.  They 
think  that  they  have  pacified  Ireland.  They  think  that 
they  have  purchased  half  of  us  and  intimidated  the  other 
half.  They  think  they  have  foreseen  everything,  think 
that  they  have  provided  against  everything;  but  the  fools, 
the  fools,  the  fools !  They  have  left  us  our  Fenian  dead, 
and  while  Ireland  holds  these  graves  Ireland  unfree  shall 
never  be  at  peace." 

After  all  was  over  I  saw  him,  with  his  curious,  heavy 
gait,  walking  home  alone,  unheeded  and  unheeding,  in 
plain  simple  Volunteer  uniform,  without  a  single  decora- 
tion of  rank.  Soon  after  a  motor  passed  me,  holding  Tom 
MacDonagh,  the  Commandant-General  for  the  day,  sur- 
rounded with  staff  officers,  smart  and  resplendent  with 
yellow  tabs.  I  little  dreamed  that  I  should  never  see 
them  again. 

§7 
The  other  event  followed  some  weeks  afterwards,  at 
the  end  of  that  summer.    It  is  notorious  how,  for  half  a 
century,  since  the  calamity  of  the  Great  Starvation  of 

103 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

'47  to  '49,  the  best  blood  of  the  country  has  been  drained 
out  in  a  constant  stream  of  emigration.  After  the  Land 
Acts  the  flow  of  that  stream  diminished  with  each  decade. 
Security  of  tenure  and  economic  hope  for  the  future 
enabled  a  great  and  greater  part  of  the  population  brought 
forth  on  the  shores  of  Ireland  to  continue  their  life  within 
those  shores.  No  longer  was  it  judged  necessary  for  every 
son  and  daughter  other  than  the  eldest  to  leave  Ireland 
to  find  a  place  for  life  in  America.  But  still,  in  most 
homes,  a  part  of  the  family  emigrated.  In  great  measure 
this  was  due  to  economic  necessity,  but  it  was  due  also 
to  the  circumstance  that  counterparts  of  communities  in 
Ireland  had  been  created  in  America,  and  these  counter- 
parts continued  to  draw  upon  their  original  sources, 
because  that  habit  of  life  had  been  instituted. 

Every  family  in  Achill,  for  example,  had,  and  has, 
at  least  as  many  members  in  Cleveland,  Ohio,  as 
in  Achill.  Every  family  in  Aran  had,  and  has,  its 
larger  end  in  Chicago.  The  thought  of  Cleveland  or 
Chicago  to  an  Achill  or  Aran  lass  or  lad  was,  not  the 
thought  of  a  vast  distance  to  travel,  but  the  thought  of 
the  next  parish,  where  there  was  a  home  ready,  relatives 
and  friends  waiting  to  receive  them  into  neighbourly  com- 
munity, whereas  the  thought  of  Dublin  was  the  thought 
of  a  lonely,  homeless  city  of  adventure.  And  this,  too, 
assisted  emigration,  till  emigration  had  become  a  constant 
part  of  the  nation's  social  habit. 

This  is  important  to  note.  It  cannot  be  neglected  in  a 
right  understanding  of  the  history  of  these  years.  If  any- 
thing were  violently  to  stop  this  stream,  the  entire  social 
and   economic   life   of   the   nation   would   be   affected. 

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EASTER    WEEK  :     A    CHAPTER    IN    PARENTHESIS 

Families  would  become  enlarged,  and  would  lose  their 
equilibrium  and  central  authority.  The  stream  of  youth 
that  had  gone  to  America  would  scatter  like  waste  waters 
over  the  land.  There  would  be  no  place  of  life  for  all 
those  who  stayed  in  Ireland.  Unemployment  would  be 
suddenly  and  violently  increased.  More  serious  still,  the 
habit  of  employment  and  the  tuition  of  industry  would 
be  lost  for  a  great  part  of  a  nation's  life  during  the 
formative  years  of  its  youth. 

This  it  was  that  now  happened.  Towards  the  end 
of  this  summer  a  rumour  flew  that  the  British  Govern- 
ment meditated  on  the  necessity  for  conscription.  That 
rumour  was  not  welcomed  with  any  enthusiasm  in 
England  itself,  where  the  war  was  felt  in  the  blood  to  be 
waged  in  defence  of  national  freedom.  In  Ireland,  where 
history  and  habit  had  stopped  the  nurture  of  any  such 
thought,  it  was  received  with  dismay.  Conscription, 
conceived  of  in  England  as  the  last  necessity  of  duty,  was 
in  Ireland  regarded  as  impressment  and  servitude.  A 
recruit  who  joined  at  the  wish  of  his  nation's  leaders  was 
one  thing,  a  conscript  quite  another.  One  went  to  the 
wars  to  gain  his  nation's  political  freedom  as  the  bargain- 
price  of  his  going  (and  that  was  the  note  sounded  from 
nearly  every  recruiting  platform),  whereas  the  other  was 
marched  off  by  an  alien  press-gang,  without  a  voice  to 
exercise  in  the  matter. 

The  consequence  of  the  rumour  was  prompt.  Family 
consultations  were  held  (I  remember  many  of  them  in 
Achill)  as  to  which  of  the  sons  it  was  necessary  to  retain, 
and  preparations  were  made  for  the  passage  of  the  others 
to  their  friends  and  relatives  in  America.     A  movement 

105 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

began  towards  Dublin  and  Liverpool ;  but  hardly  had  that 
movement  begun  than  it  was  abruptly  slopped — and 
slopped,  as  the  event  proved,  for  many  years,  with  results 
that  no  one  then  could  foresee. 

The  cause  of  this  was  that  an  outcry  arose  in  the  British 
Press.  Young  Irishmen,  it  was  announced,  were  flying 
in  cowardice,  flying  before  the  common  danger,  flying 
from  the  common  duty.  Idle,  in  those  heated  hours,  to 
point  out  that  neither  the  danger  nor  the  duty  were  re- 
garded as  common  while  Ireland  had  not  the  freedom  to 
defend  that  she  had  struggled  so  long  and  so  vainly  to 
obtain.  Those  who  read  the  British  Press  were  moved 
to  the  ready  anger  that  is  part  of  the  war  psychology 
of  nations,  and  crowds  moved  towards  the  quays  at 
Liverpool  to  await  intending  emigrants. 

The  scenes  that  were  enacted  on  those  quays  were  not 
pleasant.  National  hatreds  are  not  pleasant  to  contem- 
plate. Irish  country  lads  were  met  by  angry  demon- 
strations they  did  not,  and  could  not,  understand. 
Hostility,  and  even  violence,  attempted  to  stop  them  going 
abroad,  and  finally  the  crews  of  the  emigrant  ships, 
catching  the  spirit  from  the  shore,  refused  to  carry  them. 
There  was  nothing  for  them  to  do  but  to  return  home, 
and  thus  the  old  outlet  was  stopped  and  the  old  habit 
broken.  Ireland,  without  a  developed  industrial  life  to 
sustain  her  population,  had  henceforth  to  maintain  that 
population  on  her  land. 

§8 

It  was  in  such  an  Ireland  that  the  tuition  of  arms  was 
now  to  be  given.     For  the  first  time  for  over  half  a 

1 06 


EASTER    WEEK  :     A    CHAPTER    IN    PARENTHESIS 

century  Ireland  was  compelled  to  retain  the  full  comple- 
ment of  her  youth,  without  work  to  give  them,  without 
means  for  acquiring  the  training  of  industry.  More- 
over, as  the  news  in  the  Irish  Press  of  the  scenes  at 
Liverpool  was  read  in  every  town  and  village,  recruit- 
ing meetings  that  had  weakened  throughout  the  summer 
went  finally  barren  of  results.  Ordinarily  these  things 
must,  needs  have  been  fruitful  of  unsettlement  in  coming 
years.  But  they  occurred  at  a  moment  when  the  standard 
of  revolt  was  being  prepared  to  be  unfurled  and  the 
example  of  armed  insurrection  to  be  taught. 

Throughout  this  year  preparations  had  been  carefully 
continued  in  and  out  of  Ireland.  Early  in  the  year  an 
emissary  had  been  sent  to  America  by  the  Military 
Council,  and  he  had  there  met  the  military  staff  attached 
to  the  German  Embassy,  and  had  discussed  the  question 
of  military  assistance.  This  assistance  was  to  take  the 
form  of  arms,  to  be  landed  in  Ireland  immediately  prior 
to  revolt,  and  an  offensive  in  Europe  to  chime  with  it. 
Later  a  member  of  the  Council,  Joseph  Plunkett,  found 
his  way  to  Germany  by  way  of  Switzerland,  and  there 
arranged  for  the  shipment  of  arms.  In  the  meantime, 
in  Ireland  arms  were  being  secretly  gathered  together,  and 
munitions  manufactured  with  such  skill  as  was  available. 
Manoeuvres  were  being  conducted  with  greater  and 
greater  daring,  and  the  people  and  the  authorities  trained 
to  the  habit  of  seeing  Volunteers  in  arms  marching 
through  the  streets  and  practising  the  movements  of  war- 
fare on  hill-sides  in  their  green  uniforms.  The 
Redmondite  Volunteers,  not  to  be  outdone,  did  the  same, 
though  without  arms,  and  as  it  was  impossible  for  the 

107 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

authorities  to  strike  at  them,  and  equally  difficult  to  dis- 
criminate without  weakening  John  Redmond's  authority, 
the  Irish  Volunteers  went  free  and  became  bolder  and 
bolder  with  success. 

In  January  of  1916,  accordingly,  it  was  decided  that 
the  moment  had  come  to  strike.  The  authorities  were 
becoming  alarmed,  and  immunity  could  not  much  longer 
be  expected.  Easter  Sunday  was  therefore  chosen  as  the 
day,  and  a  lady  was  sent  to  America  to  acquaint  the  folk 
there,  in  order  that  they  in  their  turn  might,  through  the 
German  Embassy,  communicate  with  Germany  so  as  to 
put  in  motion  the  plans  that  had  been  made.  She  re- 
turned with  the  message  that  the  news  had  been  sent  by 
wireless  to  Germany. 

Messengers  and  messages  in  code  passed  constandy 
between  the  Military  Council  and  the  leaders  in  America 
during  these  early  months  of  the  year,  and  the  leaders  in 
America  were  in  continuous  touch  with  the  German 
Military  Attache,  Herr  Pape.  In  Ireland  the  Volunteers 
were  steadily  keyed  up  to  action,  the  orders  sometimes 
going  through  the  Volunteer  Executive  and  sometimes 
directly  to  units  whose  commanders  were  in  independent 
touch  with  the  Military  Council.  Most  extraordinary 
manoeuvres  were  undertaken,  foolhardy  to  the  point  of 
madness,  yet  (even  though  this  were  not  intended  the 
effect  was)  skilful  in  psychological  attunement. 

In  the  early  hours  of  one  morning,  for  example,  a 
mock  attack  on  the  Post  Office  was  made  by  a  consider- 
able body  of  men,  rapidly  mobilized,  in  full  equipment. 
The  men  met  in  the  streets  surrounding  the  Post  Office, 
deployed,  skirmished,  were  reassembled,  and  then  dis- 

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EASTER    WEEK  :     A    CHAPTER    IN    PARENTHESIS 

appeared.  On  another  occasion  the  Citizen  Army  at 
night  surrounded  Dublin  Castle,  skirmished  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood, and  then  marched  off  with  full  honours.  The 
minds  of  the  authorities  in  Dublin  Castle  as  a  conse- 
quence of  these  manoeuvres  may  be  imagined  as  one  of 
bewilderment,  uneasily  derisive,  tempered  alike  by  scorn 
and  apprehension.  The  madness  of  attack  seemed  too 
strange  to  be  credited,  yet  a  close  and  careful  watch  was 
kept. 

On  St.  Patrick's  Day,  a  month  before  the  intended 
stroke,  a  full-dress  Review  was  held  in  College  Green. 
This  was  meant  as  the  first  of  a  series  of  deliberate  in- 
vocations of  history;  for  it  called  back  to  another  Volun- 
teer Review  in  College  Green  in  1783,  which  led  to  the 
legislative  independence  of  the  Irish  Parliament  of  that 
year.  Eoin  MacNeill  (unsuspecting  to  what  this  was  the 
prelude)  took  the  salute  as  Chief  of  Staff,  while  all  the 
Dublin  battalions  marched  past  him.  The  same  day 
meetings  were  held  in  all  the  principal  towns  of  the 
country.  I  had  been  invited  to  speak  at  Westport,  and 
to  that  meeting  came  O'Rahilly,  a  bonny,  handsome 
figure  in  his  staff  uniform.  It  was  to  be  the  last  time  I 
should  see  him  and  speak  with  him — whom  I  had 
been  compelled  to  treat  so  summarily  in  our  adventure 
two  years  before. 

So  the  day  of  insurrection  approached,  the  Volunteers 
growing  bolder  and  bolder  with  that  approach,  while 
Dublin  Castle  held  its  hand  half  raised  to  strike,  yet  was 
reluctant  to  precipitate  trouble.  "  Tralee  Bay  "  had  been 
passed  over  the  waters  as  the  spot  at  which  the  German 
arms  were  to  be  landed;  and  the  wish  had  been  expressed 

109 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

that  that  landing  should  be  at  the  same  moment  as  the 
Rising  in  Dublin,  in  order  that  Dublin  Castle  should  not 
hear  of  it  in  time  to  take  precautions  in  the  city.  The 
arms  so  landed  were  to  be  passed  to  Cork  and  Limerick, 
and  to  Tipperary  and  the  midlands,  which  were  then  to 
rise,  equipped  and  ready. 

The  plans  were  carefully  made.  All  the  chief  lines 
to  be  held  converged  on  Dublin,  and  were  intended  to 
divide  the  country  into  sections,  to  keep  the  troops  in  the 
country  fully  occupied  and  prevent  their  freedom  of 
movement.  One  line  was  to  extend  from  Carrickmacross 
to  Carrick-on-Shannon,  and  the  Volunteers  in  Belfast 
were  to  come  out  from  that  city  to  Tyrone,  thus  to  put 
a  ring  around  the  garrison  at  Enniskillen.  Another  line 
was  to  stretch  across  the  Tipperary  mountains  in  a  north- 
easterly direction  towards  the  Curragh.  From  Limerick 
another  line  was  to  extend  along  the  Shannon  to  Carrick- 
on-Shannon,  and  along  this  line  the  arms  landed  at 
Tralee  were  to  be  passed  to  the  north  and  the  west. 

Thus  it  was  expected  that  the  entire  country  would  be 
held  at  least  long  enough  (while  a  strong  German 
offensive  in  Europe  made  it  impossible  for  troops  to  be 
despatched  from  England  to  Ireland)  to  compel  a  setde- 
ment  on  terms.  The  plan  was  ambitious,  and  it  was  not 
without  military  skill.  All  depended,  however,  on 
German  good  faith,  first  as  to  the  landing  of  arms,  and 
then  as  to  concerted  action  on  the  war-front  in  Europe. 
Expectation  built,  not  on  German  altruism  (there  was  in 
Ireland  too  deep-seated  a  cynicism  as  to  all  international 
altruisms),  but  on  German  military  strategy,  in  the  pre- 
science and  skill  of  which  unquestioned  trust  was  put. 

no 


EASTER    WEEK  I     A    CHAPTER    IN    PARENTHESIS 

But  there  was  one  man  in  whom  that  faith  and  trust 
had  been  completely  shattered,  as  the  result  of  bitter 
experience. 

That  one  man  was  Roger  Casement.  He  had  learned 
that  the  German  military  authorities  scoffed  at  Irish 
pretensions,  and  he  had  learned  also  that  the  German 
civil  authorities  were  resolved  to  take  no  step  that  would 
make  it  too  difficult  for  them  to  settle  on  satisfactory 
terms  with  Great  Britain.  It  was  he  who  now  took 
action  on  his  own,  and  by  that  action,  fitting  as  it  did 
widi  disaster  elsewhere,  brought  all  these  careful  plans 
to  naught. 


in 


CHAPTER    SIX 


EASTER  WEEK :  A  CHAPTER  IN  PARENTHESIS 

{continued) 

§i 

FOR  eighteen  months  Roger  Casement  had  been  in 
Germany,  and  for  twelve  months  of  that  time  his 
faith  in  the  purpose  of  his  visit  had  lain  in  utter  ruins. 
In  June,  1915,  he  had  met  Joseph  Plunkett  at  Berne,  in 
Switzerland,  and  he  knew  (though  how  fully  and  how 
completely  is  not  known)  that  the  men  in  Ireland  were 
planning  for  insurrection.  In  the  same  year,  as  Irish 
Representative  in  Germany,  he  negotiated  a  Treaty 
between  Germany  and  Ireland,  in  which  Germany 
undertook,  in  the  event  of  victory,  to  recognize  the 
Independence  of  Ireland.  But  this  document  was  kept 
secret  till  the  eve  of  Easter  Week,  when  it  was  published 
in  Germany  by  Liebknecht,  though  a  summary  of  it  had 
been  published  some  time  before  this  by  the  London 
Times.  Since  then  he  had  been  engaged,  with  Lieutenant 
Monteith,  who  had  been  sent  from  Ireland  as  the  military 
man  to  take  immediate  charge  of  the  work,  in  enrolling 
the  ill-fated  Irish  Brigade  from  Irish  prisoners  taken 
during  the  war.  Having  caused  them  to  be  enrolled,  he 
had  found  a  great  part  of  his  time  and  ingenuity  occupied 
in  guarding  the  brigade  from  being  used  for  purely 
German  purposes. 

112 


EASTER    WEEK  :     A    CHAPTER    IN    PARENTHESIS 

It  was  not  till  March,  1916,  that  he  learned  that  a 
rising  in  Ireland  had  definitely  been  planned  for  the 
following  month.  The  information  came  to  him,  not 
directly  either  from  America  or  from  the  German 
military  authorities,  but  from  Lieutenant  Monteith,  who, 
as  the  officer  directly  in  charge  of  the  Irish  Brigade,  had 
been  informed  diat  it  was  proposed  to  send  the  Brigade 
to  Ireland  to  take  part  in  the  Rising.  He  himself  was 
away  from  Berlin  when  Lieutenant  Monteith  wrote  to 
him,  asking  him  to  come  to  the  city,  in  order  to  be  at 
hand  to  give  counsel.  In  Berlin  he  discovered  that 
the  plan,  long  projected,  was  built  on  promises  of 
German  assistance,  and  this  stirred  in  him  the 
greatest  apprehension,  for  his  faith  in  such  promises  had 
been  shattered.  "  My  difficulty,"  he  wrote  in  die  new 
diary  he  opened  to  leave  as  his  testament,  "  is  that  I  don't 
trust  these  people  in  anything  they  promise.  They  lie 
always.  They  may  or  may  not  keep  faith  to-day;  but  I 
have  no  reason  to  believe  that  in  anything  they  do  they 
ever  think  of  us,  or  of  others,  but  only  of  themselves." 
His  mind,  therefore,  at  once  turned  to  the  thought  of 
how  he  could  himself  get  to  Ireland,  in  the  hope  to 
prevent  the  Rising,  and  in  the  resolve,  in  the  last  resort, 
of  sharing  with  the  others  the  end  that  he  foresaw  for 
them. 

First  of  all,  however,  he  was  determined  to  prevent 
throwing  the  Irish  Brigade  into  that  danger.  The 
German  military  authorities,  he  learned,  contemplated 
sending  them  to  Ireland  in  trawlers,  guarded  by  a 
submarine;  and  he  knew  that  at  the  first  sight  of  danger 
they  would  be  left  to  their  fate — a  fate  not  difficult,  in 

113  1 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

that  event,  to  guess,  seeing  that  they  had  been  enrolled, 
sworn,  and  had  fought  as  British  soldiers.  As  for  these 
men,  he  wrote :  "  I  felt  a  peculiar  responsibility  for  their 
not  being  captured  by  the  British  Government."  There- 
fore he  fought  their  case  with  the  military  authorities. 
He  refused  his  permission  to  send  them,  and  said  that 
widiout  his  instructions,  or  Monteith's  instructions,  the 
men  would  refuse  to  go.  The  struggle  was  a  stiff  one, 
provocative  of  anger  and  hard  words  on  each  side.  The 
military  men  threatened  to  call  off  all  their  promised 
assistance,  and  to  announce  to  the  Irish  leaders  in 
America  that  the  responsibility  lay  with  him,  leaving 
him  to  be  charged  with  failure  at  a  critical  and  decisive 
hour.  "  It  is,"  he  writes,  "  the  most  damnable  position 
a  man  was  ever  put  in."  "  Cads,  scoundrels,  cowards, 
and  inveterate  liars,"  he  describes  all  the  men,  but  one, 
against  whom  he  fights. 

So  the  struggle  continued  for  days.  "I  saw  Monteith," 
he  writes.  "  We  agreed  that  under  no  circumstances  am 
I  to  consent  to  the  men  going,  that  Monteith  will  accom- 
pany me,  but  we  go  alone — and  beyond  that  I  can  decide 
nothing.  I  am  already  a  dead  man,  but  not  yet  a  wholly 
dishonoured  one  despite  all  my  mistakes.  God  knows 
they  were  not  for  self."  At  last,  however,  the  fight  was 
won  and  his  decision  was  accepted,  not  with  any  grace, 
that  the  Irish  Brigade  should  not  be  sent  on  that  enter- 
prise. 

So  he  escaped  from  the  first  net  that  had  entoiled  him, 
and  his  diaries  (locked  up  until  he  was  dead  and  the  war 
over)  reveal  the  intensity  of  the  effort  to  free  himself. 
They  are  full  of  anger  and  pain.     They  show  him  as 

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EASTER    WEEK  I     A    CHAPTER    IN    PARENTHESIS 

seeing  the  question  of  honour  in  so  intense  and  personal 
a  light  as  to  enrage  those  against  whom  he  fought,  just  as 
that  personal  vision,  at  that  moment,  would  no  doubt 
have  bewildered  a  good  many  of  die  men  in  Ireland. 
For  both  these  sets  of  men,  from  their  entirely  different 
points  of  view,  saw  human  beings  as  but  part  of  the 
causes  they  espoused,  whereas  he  saw  causes  as  taking 
their  worth  and  virtue  from  the  personal  worth  and 
virtue  of  the  human  beings  who  espoused  them;  he 
was  meticulous  for  personal  honour  with  a  passion  that 
one  set  of  them  did  not  comprehend  and  the  other 
probably  would  not  have  done.  They  show  him,  too, 
preparing  to  die,  open-eyed  and  resolute,  not,  like 
Padraic  Pearse,  as  an  act  of  immolation,  but  as  an  act 
of  expiation.  Over  them  hangs  the  twilight  of  doom — 
the  doom  of  one  who  perceives  that  he  has  stirred  the 
envy  of  the  gods  in  having,  now  at  last,  undertaken  some- 
thing beyond  his  powers,  and  about  whom  the  coils  of  his 
fate  are  falling. 

It  is  in  this  light  he  is  seen  essaying  his  next  task. 
That  task  was  to  get  a  warning  sounded  in  Ireland.  It 
had  been  arranged  that  a  shipload  of  100,000  rifles,  and 
ammunition,  were  to  be  landed  at  Fenit,  in  Tralee  Bay, 
according  to  the  wish  of  the  men  in  Ireland.  He,  there- 
fore, demanded  to  be  sent  to  Ireland  in  advance  by 
submarine;  and  in  a  memorandum  prepared  for  the 
authorities  he  points  out  "  that  it  was  essential  to  send 
over  before  the  shipment  of  arms  certain  intelligence  to 
our  friends  in  Ireland,  so  that  the  landing-place  or  places 
might  be  finally  fixed,  the  date  and  all  arrangements 
made  in  concert."     Such  was  the  reason  put  before  the 

ii5 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

German  authorities.  But  to  his  comrade,  Monteith,  he 
explains  "  that  my  only  hope  in  going  is  to  arrive  in  time 
to  dissuade  the  leaders  at  home  from  the  attempt.  That, 
if  I  can  only  get  ashore  a  little  ahead  of  the  rifles,  I  may 
be  able  to  slop  the  '  Rising,'  and  arrange  only  for  the 
safe  delivery  of  the  rifles.  If  this  can  be  done  (and  only 
then)  would  the  thing  prove  useful.  Otherwise,  it  is  an 
awful  danger.  Of  course,  the  chances  are  that  we  will 
never  get  near  the  shores  of  Ireland." 

In  all  this  he  moves  as  seeing  only  one  thing  clearly  in 
the  twilight  of  doubt  and  difficulty.  He  had  learned 
that  the  men  in  Ireland  expected  German  officers  and 
artillery,  whereas  the  only  men  to  be  sent  were  the  Irish 
Brigade,  roughly  trained  in  artillery  practice  for  that 
event.  On  this  he  based  the  reasons  for  his  doubt;  but 
it  is  clear  that  his  doubt  was  really  based  on  reasons  far 
more  widely  spread  and  much  less  easy  to  define. 

The  German  authorities,  however,  met  his  demand  by 
a  flat  refusal.  They  would  not  treat  with  him — would 
hardly  even  discuss  with  him. 

While  still  continuing  his  demand,  with  a  pertinacity 
both  natural  and  desperate,  he  turned,  then,  to  another 
means  of  communication.  There  was  in  Germany  at  the 
time  an  Irish-American  by  the  name  of  John  McGoey, 
who  had  come  from  America  to  assist  him.  He  pro- 
posed, therefore,  to  get  McGoey  out  of  the  country,  as 
the  bearer  of  a  message  to  the  men  in  Ireland.  '  I 
explained  the  situation  to  him  very  fully,"  he  writes, 

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EASTER    WEEK  :     A    CHAPTER    IN    PARENTHESIS 

"  and  pointed  out  the  imperative  need  of  trying  to  get 
someone  into  Ireland  to  warn  them  there  of  the  wholly 
inadequate  help  being  sent,  and  to  say  that  I  strongly 
urged  no  rising."  McGoey  said  it  would  be  criminal 
and  that  he  had  long  suspected  the  Germans  of  playing 
a  double  game.  He  would  do  anything  I  asked  him. 
I  told  him  it  was  necessary  for  me  to  keep  silent  as  to  my 
real  opinions  before  the  German  General  Staff,  and  that 
when  I  took  him  to  the  Admiralty  he  must  keep  silent, 
too." 

So  it  was  arranged.  The  German  authorities  agreed 
to  let  McGoey  travel  without  papers  or  passport  to 
Denmark,  in  the  hope  that  he  might  get  ship  from 
Copenhagen  to  Scotland,  and  to  send  a  police  agent  with 
him  to  the  frontier;  and  on  the  19th  of  March  he  left 
Berlin  on  his  errand.  "  He  goes,"  write  Casement,  "  as 
an  added  string  to  our  bow  (an  addition  to  my  telegram 
to  Devoy)  to  tell  the  Dublin  Council  to  have  the  pilot 
boat  ready  at  Inishtooskert,  etc.;  but  he  goes  really  to  try 
and  get  the  heads  in  Ireland  to  call  off  the  '  Rising.'  .  .  . 
It  he  gets  safely  through  to  Dublin  he  is  to  seek  out  Tom 
Clarke,  and  through  Bulmer  Hobson,  and  try  to  '  call 
oft '  the  Rising." 

A  few  days  afterwards  he  was  sent  for  to  the 
Admiralty,  and  charged  with  sending  John  McGoey  to 
Ireland  for  his  own  purposes.  "  It  was,"  he  writes,  "  a 
most  unseemly  exhibition  of  German  military  culture. 
I  gave  back  as  good  as  I  got  and  insisted  on  the  stopping 
of  the  whispering,  and  on  the  conversation  being  con- 
tinued in  a  language  I  understood,  either  English  or 
French.    The  chief  cause  of  the  fury  was  that  I  had  sent 

117 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

John  McGoey  to  Ireland.  I  nearly  laughed  in  Nodoling's 
face.  He  said  it  was  a  gross  breach  of  faith.  I  told  him 
he  was  a  liar.  .  .  .  Their  fear  was  that  I  had  sent  John 
McGoey  to  slop  the  Rising.  They  asked  me  again  and 
again  if  I  had  so  instructed  him.  I  said  I  was  not  the 
master  of  the  Irish  Revolutionary  Body,  and  whatever 
I  might  say  would  be  advice  or  suggestion.  When  I 
avowed  that  John  McGoey  himself  was  dead  against  the 
Rising  their  fury  was  uncontrolled.  How  had  I  dared 
to  send  such  a  man  to  Ireland  without  letting  them 
know?" 

In  face  of  this,  however,  he  continued  his  demand  to 
be  sent  himself  to  Ireland  by  submarine.  Everywhere 
throughout  his  diaries  sounds  the  note  of  his  personal 
responsibility,  and  his  desire  to  make  his  personal  effort 
or  share  his  personal  risk  in  the  outcome.  "  How  can  I 
go  on  with  it?"  he  asks.  "  What  am  I  to  do?  Whatever 
way  I  turn,  misery,  failure,  degradation,  and  no  way  out. 
I  know  not  what  to  do.  I  have  told  Monteith  the  actual 
fear  I  have — not  physical  or  for  myself,  but  for  Ireland 
and  our  national  cause.  We  are  being  put  in  an  abject 
position — and  this  by  this  great  almighty  power.  .  .  . 
As  for  the  '  Rising '  itself  in  Ireland,  to  attempt  it  with 
this  help  is — well,  a  masterpiece  of  idiocy." 

"The  whole  thing  appals  me,"  he  writes  again,  "as 
a  piece  of  the  most  ghastly  folly — or,  rather,  as  one  of 
the  most  criminal  attempts  ever  perpetrated.  And  I  am 
debarred  from  saying  so,  and  from  the  needed  steps  to 
prevent  it,  by  fear  of  incurring  a  personal  reproach  of 

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EASTER    WEEK  .'     A    CHAPTER    IN    PARENTHESIS 

cowardice  (already  grossly  implied  by  some  of  those  who 
are  handling  the  matter  at  the  General  Staff),  or  worse 
still,  by  fear  of  perhaps  not  preventing  the  Rising,  but 
only  depriving  my  countrymen  of  the  arms  at  the  critical 
moment."  "  Irishmen,"  he  avers,  "  will  bitterly  resent 
bloodshed  and  civil  strife  in  Ireland,  forced  on,  as  will 
then  seem  apparent,  by  a  filibustering  expedition  launched 
from  Germany  for  that  purpose." 

In  this  mood — desperate  enough  to  write :  "  I  feel  like 
a  man  already  damned.  .  .  .  The  sooner  my  life  is  taken 
from  me  the  better  " — in  this  torment  of  despair  and 
agony  of  spirit,  he  fought  unceasingly  for  the  submarine. 
Two  things  only  he  demanded,  and  demanded  as  of  right. 
The  first  was  the  submarine.  The  second  was  a  bottle 
of  poison.  To  so  tragic  an  outcome  had  he  at  last  been 
brought — he  who  all  his  life  had  been  the  knight-errant 
of  lost  causes. 

It  was  at  this  moment  that  he  received  a  letter,  dated 

the  5th   of   April,   from   Berne.      It  was   from   Joseph 

Plunkett,  and  bore  the  sign  agreed  between  them  the 

previous  June,  by  which  he  should  know  from  whom  it 

came.     This  sign  was  the  word  "  Ashling,"  from  the 

Irish  aisling,  meaning  "  a  vision."     But  the  letter  was 

concerned  only  with  the  practical  business  of  the  vision, 

and  was  brief  and  immediate.     It  ran : 

Berne, 
<$th  April,  1916. 
"  Ashling." 

Dear  Roger  Casement, 

I  am  sent  here  as  delegate  by  the  President  and 

Supreme  Council  of  the  Irish  Volunteers,  and  through 

the  courtesy  of  his  Excellency  the  German  Ambassador 

119 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

I   am  enabled  to  give   you  this  urgent  message   from 
Ireland : 

i.  The  Rising  is  fixed  for  the  evening  of  next  Easier 
Sunday. 

2.  The  large  consignment  of  arms  to  be  brought  into 
Tralee  Bay  must  arrive  there  not  later  than  the  dawn 
of  Easier  Monday. 

3.  German  officers  will  be  necessary  for  die  Volunteer 
forces.    This  imperative. 

4.  A  German  submarine  will  be  required  in  Dublin 
harbour. 

The  time  is  very  short,  but  is  necessarily  so,  for  we 
must  act  of  our  own  choice,  and  delays  are  dangerous. 

Yours  very  sincerely, 

A  Friend  of  James  Malcolm. 

Instantly  he  went  to  the  Admiralty,  taking  the  letter 
with  him.  The  reply  he  received  was  that  the  submarine 
would  not  be  given.  He  was  in  despair,  and  writes  that 
the  Germans  must  then  have  thought  him  mad;  "  I  was 
for  the  moment,"  he  adds,  "  and  utterly  angry  when  I 
thought  of  Ireland,  of  those  poor  boys  on  Easter  Sunday 
and  Easter  Monday  waiting  for  the  steamer,  the  Rising 
already  accomplished,  and  their  only  hope  the  ship  with 
the  rifles  and  the  officers  who  will  not  be  there."  He 
prayed  that  the  ship  with  the  rifles  might  be  captured, 
with  himself  on  board,  in  order  that  this  news  might  get 
abroad  and  so  the  situation  be  saved.  "  I  pray  God  for  this 
solution  to  save  the  situation  in  Ireland,  and  to  save  our 
young  people  from  being  made  the  victims  of  this  callous 
conspiracy.  Poor  Ireland  !  God  save  her.  Indeed,  only 
He  can." 

We  wired  back  to  Berne : 

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EASTER    WEEK  I     A    CHAPTER    IN    PARENTHESIS 

jth  April,  1916. 

When  did  you  leave  Dublin,  and  what  were  your  last- 
advices  from  Germany? 

Steamer  with  20,000  rifles,  5,000,000  cartridges,  10 
machine-guns,  1,000,000  cartridges  will  be  off  Inish- 
tooskert  Rock,  N.W.  Hags,  on  Easier  Sunday  night. 

No  German  officers  or  men  going — impossible 
despatch. 

No  submarine  can  be  sent. 

Can  you  reach  Dublin  before  Easier  Sunday?  A  letter 
with  fuller  information  follows. 

Having  sent  this  telegram,  he  wrote  at  once  at  length, 
and  gave  the  letter  to  the  only  friend  he  had  at  the 
Admiralty  to  send  by  special  courier  to  Berne.  If  that 
letter  is  anywhere  available  is  not  known.  It  would  prove 
an  interesting  document. 

As  a  result  of  the  letter  from  Berne,  however,  the 
entire  situation  was  changed.  It  would  seem  that  the 
German  authorities  felt  that  the  Rising  was  now  deter- 
mined beyond  recall,  and  that  the  departure  of  Roger 
Casement  could  do  nothing  to  prevent  it.  Perhaps,  too, 
they  felt  relieved  to  be  free  of  his  presence,  not  only  to  be 
rid  of  his  immediate  importunity,  but  to  be  rid,  also,  of 
the  public  reproach  his  presence  in  Germany  (not  im- 
possibly, his  living  presence  anywhere)  musl  certainly 
afterwards  be.  For  the  following  day  he  was  summoned 
to  the  Admiralty,  and  during  the  two  and  a  half  hours 
that  he  waited  there,  as  he  learned,  "  a  full-dress  debate  " 
was  held  on  the  advisability  of  sending  him  to  Ireland 
by  submarine,  as  he  had  wished. 

At  the  end  of  that  time  he  was  informed  that  his  wish 

121 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

was  granted.  A  submarine  was  to  be  provided  to  send 
him  to  Ireland.  '  You  will  promise  to  land  me  in  good 
time?"  he  asked,  and  that  promise  was  given.  The  bottle 
of  poison  was  also  promised.  A  messenger  was  to  be  sent 
to  Wilhelmshaven  to  arrange  for  the  submarine,  and  from 
Wilhelmshaven  came  the  message  that  the  submarine 
would  be  ready  at  Emden  at  his  service  on  the  12th  of 
April.  So  on  Tuesday,  the  nth  of  April,  with  the  faith- 
ful Monteith  and,  fatefully,  one  other  (who  afterwards 
turned  King's  evidence  against  him)  for  his  companions, 
he  left  Berlin  for  his  last  journey. 

§4 

He  is  next  seen,  with  two  companions,  about  5  o'clock 
on  Good  Friday  morning  (two  days,  that  is,  before  the 
date  arranged  for  the  Rising)  walking  in  the  direction  of 
Ardfert  from  the  Kerry  coast.  He  had  earnestly  pleaded 
with  the  submarine  commander  to  be  landed  in 
Co.  Galway,  in  order,  first,  to  have  another  day  to  get 
into  touch  with  Dublin,  and,  second,  to  have  readier 
access  there.  But  he  had  been  refused.  The  com- 
mander's orders  were  to  meet  the  ship  bearing  the  arms 
off  Fenit  Head  on  Friday,  the  21st,  and  to  land  Case- 
ment at  that  place  on  that  day.  In  pursuance  of  these 
orders  he  and  his  companions  had  been  placed  in  a 
collapsible  canvas  boat  the  night  before,  from  which,  wet 
and  weary,  physically  ill  and  mentally  worn,  he  had  just 
alighted,  leaving  the  boat  drawn  up  on  the  beach  for  all 
to  see. 

The  immediate  thought  was  to  get  into  touch  with 

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EASTER    WEEK  :     A    CHAPTER    IN    PARENTHESIS 

the  Volunteers  at  Tralee.  It  was  decided  that  Roger 
Casement  himself  would  make  too  conspicuous  a  figure 
in  the  town,  whereas  his  two  companions  would  pass 
unnoticed.  He,  therefore,  took  cover  in  a  hollow,  known 
locally  as  McKenna's  Fort,  while  Lieutenant  Monteith 
and  Bailey  went  on  into  Tralee,  there  to  get  early  Mass 
and  to  establish  contact  with  the  Volunteers. 

In  Tralee  they  met  Austin  Stack,  who  had  been  sent 
down  from  Dublin,  with  two  others,  to  organize  the  land- 
ing of  the  expected  arms  and  to  assume  the  local  com- 
mand. In  conformity  with  the  message  that  had  been 
sent  through  America  to  Berlin,  the  date  for  this  landing 
had  been  changed  from  Good  Friday  to  Easter  Sunday, 
and  the  proper  receipt  of  that  message  is  to  be  seen  as 
registered  in  the  telegram  sent  by  Roger  Casement 
through  the  German  Admiralty  to  Berne  on  the  7th  of 
April.  Now  came  the  news  that  Casement  had  landed, 
and  was  awaiting  relief;  and  with  it  came  the  news  that 
the  ship  bearing  the  arms  was  due  in  Tralee  Bay  that 
very  day. 

At  once  all  was  activity.  Austin  Stack  set  out  in 
a  motor-car  to  find  Casement,  but  he  returned  saying 
that  he  had  been  unable  to  proceed,  as  the  wheels  of 
his  car  had  sunk  in  the  sand.  He  proposed  sending  help 
on  foot,  but  on  his  return  he  was  informed  by  the  police 
that  he  and  his  companions  were  to  report  themselves 
at  the  police  station.  Seeing  that  the  police  were 
suspicious  as  to  his  movements,  and  thinking  to  allay  that 
suspicion,  he  proceeded  to  the  station,  where  he  was  at 
once    arrested.      With    characteristic    courage    he    en- 

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RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

deavoured  to  break  loose,  but  he  was  unsuccessful,  and  so 
the  local  Volunteers  were  left  without  their  commandant 
and  their  principal  officers,  in  whose  hands  lay  the 
details  of  all  arrangements. 

The  truth  was  that  the  police  had  been  advised  that 
something  was  a-wind.  Even  before  Roger  Casement  and 
his  companions  had  been  seen  and  their  presence  re- 
ported to  the  police,  the  collapsible  boat  had  been  found 
at  dawn  on  the  beach.  The  connection  between  the  boat 
and  the  presence  of  three  Strangers  walking  the  road 
towards  Ardfert  was  obvious,  and  a  search  was  at  once 
instituted.  Yet  it  was  not  till  1.20  p.m.  that  day,  after 
Auslin  Stack  had  been  arresled,  that  Casement  was  found 
hiding  in  McKenna's  Fort.  He  gave  the  name  of  Richard 
Morton,  but  he  was  arresled,  and  taken  to  Tralee  police 
barracks,  where  Austin  Stack  and  his  officers  were 
already  held. 

In  the  meantime,  the  ship  with  the  arms  had  been 
bearing  towards  Fenit  Head.  This  was  the  Aud,  that  had 
separately  found  its  way,  under  the  Norwegian  flag,  round 
by  the  Hebrides,  and  had  successfully  evaded  all  dangers 
and  reached  Irish  waters.  A  month  before  the  American 
police  had  raided  the  offices  of  the  German  Embassy  in 
New  York,  and  had  seized  a  document  stating  that  "  arms 
musl  not  be  landed  before  night  of  Sunday,  23rd."  This 
document  had  at  once  been  furnished  to  the  British 
Government.  Yet  no  special  watch  seemed  to  be  kept, 
and  no  special  difficulties  were  encountered  when  the 
Aud  threw  overboard  her  false  cargo  of  pit-props  and 
door-frames,  made  ready  for  the  delivery  of  the  rifles 

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EASTER    WEEK  :     A    CHAPTER    IN    PARENTHESIS 

hidden  underneath,  and  made  her  way  from  the  high 
seas  towards  Tralee  Bay. 

The  difficulty  was  of  another  making.  In  spite  of  the 
telegram  changing  the  date  of  the  landing  from  Friday 
to  Sunday,  the  instructions  of  the  skipper  of  the  And  were 
for  the  original  date  of  Friday.  On  Friday,  therefore, 
he  waited  for  the  agreed  signals,  either  from  Casement, 
whom  he  was  to  meet  there,  or  from  the  Volunteers. 
Receiving  no  signals,  he  assumed  treachery  (where  there 
was  no  treachery,  but  mismanagement),  and  put  to  sea 
again.  His  hope  was  to  escape  with  his  cargo  from  the 
dangers  that  beset  him  where  he  lay,  but  his  presence 
was  now  known,  and  he  was  given  chase  by  the  Bluebell 
and  taken  to  Cork  Harbour,  where  he  blew  up  his 
ship. 

Good  Friday,  thus,  turned  to  a  day  of  fatalities.  The 
shipment  of  arms,  on  which  so  much  had  been  built,  had 
miscarried,  and  with  it  had  gone  the  careful  strategy  by 
which  it  had  been  hoped  to  hold  the  country  while  the 
Dublin  Volunteers  seized  the  seats  of  government.  Roger 
Casement  had  been  arrested,  without  delivery  of  the 
appeal  he  had  wished  to  make  that  the  Rising  be  stopped, 
and  that  no  more  be  attempted  than  the  landing  of  the 
arms  and  the  fuller  equipment  of  the  Volunteers.  And 
Austin  Stack  and  his  principal  officers  had  been  arrested, 
leaving  the  local  Volunteers  without  knowledge  of  the 
plans  made  in  Dublin. 

Only  one  person  had  escaped  who  knew  Roger  Case- 
ment's mind  fully.  This  was  Lieutenant  Monteith,  and 
for  him  the  police  were  searching  everywhere.  That 
evening  the  last  train  of  the  day  left  for  Dublin,  and  every 

125 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

person  in  the  station  was  kept  under  careful  observation. 
The  engine-driver  stood  to  his  post,  the  fireman  was  busy 
in  overalls  about  the  engine,  and  every  passenger  was 
known.  So  the  train  left.  But  the  police  did  not  know 
that  the  fireman  of  that  train  was  Lieutenant  Monteith, 
bearing  from  Roger  Casement  an  appeal  to  the  Military 
Council.  Late  that  night  he  reached  Dublin  safely,  and 
at  once  set  out  to  discover  the  men  in  command  of  the 
Volunteers.  He  found  that  he  had  arrived  at  a  critical 
moment. 

Having  in  January  sent  the  message,  through  America, 
to  Berlin  that  the  Rising  had  been  determined  for  Easter, 
the  Military  Council  still  kept  its  secret  close.  By  that 
Council  the  decision  had  been  taken — not  by  the  Volun- 
teer Executive — and  few,  very  few,  were  let  in  the  region 
of  its  confidence.  There  might  have  been,  and  there 
was,  a  good  deal  of  loose  talk  about  taking  up  arms 
against  the  national  foe,  and  probably  the  Military  Council 
and  its  trusted  agents  encouraged  such  talk,  knowing  that 
while  folk  talked  nothing  definite  would  be  expected,  and 
yet  while  folk  talked  the  general  mind  would  be  bent 
towards  the  planned  event.  But  the  actual  decision  itself 
was  a  different  matter.  None  knew  of  it  but  they, 
or  of  the  appointment  of  a  definite  date,  or  of  the  arrange- 
ments with  Germany  by  which  it  was  to  be  accompanied 
and  fortified.  These  were  matters  with  which  only  the 
rarest  were  entrusted.  It  was  inevitable  that  the  general 
mass  of  the  Volunteers  and  of  Sinn  Fein,  even  of  those 
who  held  high  positions,  should  be  excluded  from  that 

126 


EASTER    WEEK  :     A    CHAPTER    IN    PARENTHESIS 

knowledge,  but  three  persons  were  deliberately  chosen  for 
that  exclusion,  and  it  was  the  interposition  of  these  three 
that  turned  the  scale  at  the  last  moment  and  caused  the 
abandonment  of  the  plans  in  so  far  as  they  involved  the 
whole  of  Ireland. 

The  first  of  these  was  Roger  Casement.  Little  he 
thought,  as  he  wrote  his  pitiful  outcries  in  his  diary,  that 
the  Germans  were  acting  on  the  request,  of  his  own 
countrymen,  in  Ireland  and  in  America,  in  withholding 
information  and  assistance  from  him.  He  had  sought 
the  counsel  of  men  whom  they  did  not  trust.  His  mind 
moved  towards  world-politics  with  which  they  were  little 
concerned,  holding  as  they  did  the  immediate  position  in 
Ireland  before  their  undivided  attention.  Therefore  the 
German  authorities  were  requested  to  hold  him  at  arm's 
length  and  fob  him  off. 

The  second  of  these  was  Eoin  MacNeill,  who  held  the 
title  (that  cannot  be  described,  in  the  circumstances  of  the 
case,  as  other  than  completely  ironic)  of  Chief-of-Staft  of 
the  Irish  Volunteers.  He  was  known  to  be  opposed  to 
a  rising.  He  had  expressed  the  opinion  that  if,  and  when, 
the  Volunteers  were  attacked,  or  any  attempt  made  to 
suppress  them,  they  would  be  justified  in  taking  arms  arid 
fighting  in  defence,  but  he  was  opposed  to  an  offensive; 
and,  indeed,  an  offensive  could  not  have  appeared  as 
otherwise  to  him  than  as  the  plannings  of  lunacy.  He 
had  not  lived  in  the  close  world  that  had  looked  so  con- 
stantly and  so  fixedly,  though  from  so  many  different 
angles,  on  such  an  event  that  it  had  evoked  a  visionary 
mood,  beyond  reach  of  the  reason  on  which  he  naturally 
depended.    Therefore  he,  too,  was  excluded  from  know- 

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RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

ledge,  and  was  left  at  the  head  of  the  Volunteers  as  a 
mask. 

The  third  was  Arthur  Griffith.  He  had  been  invited 
to  join  the  Supreme  Council  of  the  I.R.B.,  and  to  share 
its  responsibility  in  whatever  plans  were  made.  But  he 
had  declined,  disliking,  as  he  did,  the  procedure  of  secret 
societies.  He  preferred  to  keep  his  place  as  the  open 
publicist,  but  he  asked  that  he  should  be  kept  in  full 
knowledge  of  whatever  was  being  planned  or  done.  The 
promise  of  such  knowledge  was  given  to  him,  but  that 
promise  was  not  kept. 

There  is  no  apportionment  of  blame  in  these  matters. 
Time  has  lifted  them  beyond  blame.  The  men  who 
planned  a  rising  had  brooded  so  long  on  that  event  that 
it  had  come  to  pass  in  their  minds,  and  they  avoided 
contact  with  other  minds  in  which  that  finality  had  not 
occurred.  They  had,  in  a  very  real  sense,  passed  into  a 
world  of  vision,  and  they  kept  away  from  those  who  did 
not  share  that  vision,  not  having  passed  through  the 
brooding  intensity  by  which  it  had  been  attained.  They 
might  have  very  carefully  planned  (they  did,  in  fact,  care- 
fully plan)  a  complete  military  strategy  for  the  country, 
and  devise  all  the  details  of  German  military  assistance; 
but,  even  though  they  did  not  know  it,  the  event  itself  in 
their  minds  stood  separate  from  these  fortifications  and 
accompaniments,  and  had  to  be  completed  in  fact  as  it 
had  already  been  completed  in  intention,  whatever  befell 
them.  But  the  result  was  that  there  was  a  division.  That 
division  also  was  a  fact,  and  it  had  finally  to  make 
itself  felt. 

It  was   not  till  the  Thursday  before  Easter  Sunday 

128 


EASTER    WEEK  :     A    CHAPTER    IN    PARENTHESIS 

(even  while  Roger  Casement,  unknown  to  him,  in  his 
submarine  was  approaching  the  Irish  coast)  that  Eoin 
MacNeill  learned  definitely  what  had  been  planned  for 
the  forthcoming  Sunday.  Orders  had  been  issued  in  his 
name  for  special  parades  and  manoeuvres  over  the  entire 
country  for  that  day,  but  such  parades  and  manoeuvres 
had  now  become  habitual,  and  he  (absorbed  as  he  was 
by  his  historical  studies,  and  seldom  to  be  seen  at  head- 
quarters) had  seen  nothing  significant  in  these  orders.  He 
knew,  indeed,  that  certain  of  his  colleagues  desired  a 
rising,  and  that  an  organization  to  that  end  existed  within 
the  Volunteers,  but  he  had  never  connected  their 
ambitions  with  an  event  so  near.  It  was  Bulmer  Hobson, 
the  Secretary  of  the  Volunteers,  and  a  close  personal 
friend  of  Eoin  MacNeill,  who,  during  that  week,  first: 
perceived  that  special  significance  was  being  attached  to 
the  following  Sunday's  manoeuvres.  He  instantly  took 
steps  to  counteract  the  war  party's  moves  and  com- 
municated his  fears  to  the  Chief-of-Staff.  The  two  of 
them  endeavoured  to  elicit  information  as  to  what  was 
being  proposed  for  the  organization  under  their 
administration,  but  during  Tuesday  and  Wednesday  they 
demanded  in  vain,  and  were  like  men  without  a  task  in 
a  house  full  of  activity. 

Then,  on  the  Thursday,  Eoin  MacNeill  learned  that 
orders  had  been  issued  to  blow  up  bridges  and  railroads 
at  an  appointed  hour  on  Sunday.  The  naked  fact  now 
stood  clear  of  all  disguise,  and  the  Chief-of-Staff  con- 
fronted his  colleagues,  Padraic  Pearse,  Vice-Chairman  of 
the  Volunteer  Executive,  and  Thomas  MacDonagh,  Com- 
mandant of  the  Dublin  Brigade,  and  charged  them  with 

129  K 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

withholding  information  from  him.  Pearse's  answer  was 
simple  and  final.  "  It  was  necessary,"  he  said,  and  he 
added  that  it  was  now  impossible  to  prevent  the  plans 
from  coming  into  operation  as  arranged.  The  Rising 
had  but  to  occur  and  was  beyond  recall.  Eoin  MacNeill 
thought  otherwise,  and  expressed  his  determination  to 
slop  it  by  every  means  in  his  power,  by  the  full  exercise 
of  his  authority  and  responsibility. 

So  the  two  sides  parted  in  confusion.  The  division 
had  begun,  and  a  trial  of  strength  had  opened.  All  that 
day  Eoin  MacNeill  spent  preparing  orders  to  be  issued 
by  the  Secretary  as  from  the  Chief-of-Staff  cancelling  the 
earlier  orders  for  parades,  manoeuvres,  and  route  marches 
for  the  coming  week-end.  Learning  of  this,  the  war  party 
struck  their  blow  in  reply.  On  Friday  (at  the  very 
moment  that  the  police  in  Kerry,  unknown  to  all  in 
Dublin,  were  searching  for,  and  were  about  to  arrest, 
Roger  Casement)  Bulmer  Hobson  was  arrested  by  orders 
of  the  Military  Council  and  placed  under  close  guard  in 
a  certain  Dublin  house.  At  the  same  time  possession  was 
taken  of  headquarters,  and  as  Friday  closed,  while  a 
cluster  of  Eoin  MacNeill's  friends  conferred  with  him, 
it  seemed  that  the  power  of  the  Chief-of-Staff  to  reach 
the  Volunteers,  who  looked  to  him  for  guidance,  had 
effectually  been  cut  off. 

Early  the  following  morning  the  positions  were 
reversed.  It  was  Padraic  Pearse  and  Thomas  MacDonagh 
who  came  to  see  the  Chief-of-StafT.  They  came  to  say 
that  the  cunning  of  all  their  plans  had  come  to  naught. 
Roger  Casement  was  arrested.  Austin  Stack  was  arrested. 
Worse  still,  there  had  been  mismanagement  respecting  the 

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EASTER    WEEK  I     A    CHAPTER    IN    PARENTHESIS 

shipload  of  arms.  The  Aud  had  come  too  early,  nothing 
had  been  ready  for  her  arrival,  and  no  arms  could  now 
be  expected.  Lastly,  a  message  had  been  received  from 
Roger  Casement  appealing  (even  in  the  belief  that  arms 
would  be  landed)  that  the  Rising  be  called  off,  and  saying 
that  the  Germans  had  never  intended  any  help  worth 
the  having. 

§6 

Such  was  the  situation  that  both  sides  (whether  for  war 
or  for  peace)  had  now  to  face  as  they  conferred  together. 
Disaster  on  disaster  had  befallen,  and  in  the  welter  only 
one  thing  seemed  clear  beyond  dispute.  This  was  that 
the  forcible  suppression  of  the  Volunteers  must  immedi- 
ately follow — in  fact,  that  the  sequel  was  a  mere  matter 
of  hours,  now  that  Dublin  Castle  knew  of  the  landing 
of  Roger  Casement  and  of  the  presence  of  the  Aud.  But 
this  was  the  very  situation  in  face  of  which  Eoin  MacNeill 
had  declared  that  resort  to  arms  would  be  justified.  How- 
ever earnestly  he  might  protest  against  the  measures  that 
had  been  taken  without  his  knowledge  to  bring  such  a 
situation  to  pass,  there  was  no  room  now,  he  agreed,  for 
division  or  recrimination.  All  must  stand  together  to 
resist  the  oncoming  blow,  and  he  therefore  declared  his 
willingness  to  take  his  place  in  an  immediate  call 
to  arms. 

Padraic  Pearse  and  Thomas  MacDonagh  left  happy  in 
that  assurance,  resolved  to  press  forward  arrangements 
for  the  morrow  in  the  confidence  that  the  action  to  be 
taken  would  be  supported  on  every  side.  But  as  the  day 
passed  without  action  from  Dublin  Castle,  the  situation 

131 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

seemed  to  change.  Moreover,  the  message  from  Case- 
ment began  to  make  its  appeal,  as  it  had  not  done  im- 
mediately on  its  receipt.  Eoin  MacNeill  therefore 
communicated  with  Arthur  Griffith,  and  called  Thomas 
MacDonagh  (with  whom  came  Joseph  Plunkett)  to 
another  conference  that  Saturday  evening. 

Thus  the  three  excluded  streams  of  influence  merged 
together.  Roger  Casement  was  present  by  the  fact  that 
his  appeal  was  before  this  eleventh-hour  conference  (and 
it  is  strange  to  reflect  that  even  while  the  conference  was 
being  held  he  himself  passed  through  Dublin  on  his  way 
to  London  under  arrest),  and  Arthur  Griffith  and  Eoin 
MacNeill  were  present  in  person.  The  merging  of  these 
three  streams,  even  at  that  eleventh  hour,  was  sufficient 
to  undo  all  that  had  been  so  carefully  planned.  For  it 
was  decided  to  call  off  the  Rising.  Messengers  were 
chosen,  who  speeded  away  to  the  country,  bearing  an 
order  from  the  Chief-of-Staff.  The  same  order  was  given 
to  Thomas  MacDonagh  as  Commandant  of  the  Dublin 
Brigade.  And,  lest  there  should  be  any  miscarriage,  the 
same  order  was  sent  to  be  printed  in  the  Sunday  issue  of 
the  Irish  Independent.  This  order  was,  that  "  owing  to 
the  very  critical  position  all  orders  given  to  the  Volunteer 
Corps "  for  the  following  day  were  "  rescinded,"  and 
specifically  that  "  no  parades,  marches,  or  other  move- 
ments of  Irish  Volunteers  will  take  place.  Each  individual 
Volunteer,"  it  required,  "  will  obey  this  order  in  every 
particular." 

That  night  the  churches  had  been  full  of  Volunteers, 
going  to  Confession  in  preparation  for  the  morrow;  but 
on  the  following  day  all  was  silent  in  the  city  and  in  the 

13a 


EASTER    WEEK  '.     A    CHAPTER    IN    PARENTHESIS 

country.  MacNeill's  order  had  been  successful.  But  on 
the  same  day  two  critical  conferences  were  held.  One 
was  of  the  chiefs  of  Dublin  Castle;  the  other  was  of  the 
chiefs  of  the  I.R.B.  and  those  who  with  them  had  planned 
the  Rising.  The  first,  had  before  it  the  knowledge  of 
Casement's  landing  and  of  the  presence  of  the  Aud. 
The  second  had  before  it  the  order  issued  by  the  Chief-of- 
Staff.  But  while  the  first,  was  anxious  not  to  precipitate 
action,  the  second  was  anxious  only  to  move  immediately. 
Therefore,  while  the  first,  decided  to  postpone  decision  till 
the  morrow,  the  second  decided  to  take  action  on  the 
morrow. 

That  second  conference  met  in  Liberty  Hall,  the  head- 
quarters of  the  Transport  and  General  Workers'  Union 
and  of  the  Citizen  Army.  While  it  was  being  held, 
Eoin  MacNeill,  fearing  that  some  counter-move  was  being 
planned,  endeavoured  to  communicate  wirii  Thomas 
MacDonagh,  but  failed  to  do  so.  He  therefore  sent  an 
order  direct  to  the  Adjutant  of  the  Dublin  Brigade.  This 
Adjutant  was  Eamon  de  Valera,  and  the  order  read  : 

As  Commt.  MacDonagh  is  not  accessible,  I  have  to 
give  you  this  order  direct.  Commt.  MacDonagh  left  me 
last  night  with  the  understanding  that  he  would  return 
or  send  me  a  message.     He  has  done  neither. 

As  Chief-of-StarT  I  have  ordered  and  hereby  order  that 
no  movement  whatsoever  of  Irish  Volunteers  is  to  be 
made  to-day.  You  will  carry  out  this  order  in  your  own 
command  and  make  it  known  to  other  commands. 

Eoin  MacNeill. 

At  the  same  time  the  following  further  order  was 
issued  to  be  printed  in  the  morrow's  papers : 

J33 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

The  order  issued  to  Irish  Volunteers  printed  over  my 
name  in  to-day's  Sunday  Independent  is  hereby  authenti- 
cated. Every  influence  should  be  used  immediately  and 
throughout  the  day  to  secure  faithful  execution  of  this 
order,  as  any  failure  to  obey  it  may  result  in  a  very  grave 
catastrophe.  EoIN  MacNeill. 

Within  Liberty  Hall,  however,  these  influences  had 
little  weight;  in  the  minds  of  the  men  there  the  event  had 
already  occurred.  That  it  should  not  have  passed  into 
action  that  day  as  expected  meant  for  them  an  upheaval 
of  all  the  meaning  their  lives  had  taken  during  many 
months  of  happy  and  confident  hope.  A  balk  such  as 
this  was  a  turning  back  of  time.  It  was  monstrous  and 
incredulous;  a  challenge  of  perversity,  not  meekly  to  be 
embraced.  With  each  man  of  the  company  the  decision, 
taken  long  ago,  had  but  to  be  completed.  James  Connolly 
was  willing,  for  his  part,  to  go  out  alone;  would,  if 
necessary,  go  out  alone  with  the  Citizen  Army.  Padraic 
Pearse,  looking  for  the  spiritual  renewal  of  a  nation  in  a 
sacrifice  of  blood,  was  willing  to  make  that  sacrifice  with 
a  handful  of  those  who  shared  his  faith.  Tom  Clarke's 
whole  life  had  been  lived  in  expectation  of  this  hour. 
Frustration  of  his  hope  had  turned  Sean  MacDermott  from 
a  young  man  into  an  old  man  overnight — shocking  those 
who  looked  on  him  by  the  disastrous  change  in  his 
physical  appearance. 

The  conclusion,  therefore,  was  foregone.  The  plans 
for  the  country  had  of  course  gone  irretrievably.  More- 
over, even  in  Dublin,  the  general  body  of  the  Volunteers 
could  scarcely  be  expected  to  act  in  defiance  of  Eoin  Mac- 
Neill's  order.     Reliance  could  only  be  placed  on  those 

134 


EASTER    WEEK  I     A    CHAPTER    IN    PARENTHESIS 

who  had  been  sworn  members  of  the  I.R.B.,  on  the 
Citizen  Army,  and  on  such  others  as  these  might  bring 
with  them.  The  force  could  not  but  be  meagre;  yet  with 
such  a  force  it  was  decided  to  translate  resolve  into  action. 
Thomas  MacDonagh  was  accordingly  ordered  to  mobilize 
the  Dublin  Brigade  for  active  service  at  10  o'clock  the 
following  morning,  and  each  battalion  was  appointed  to 
its  place  in  the  original  plan. 

At  noon  the  next  day,  while  the  chiefs  of  Dublin  Castle 
sat  in  council  there  to  determine  whether  action  should 
be  taken,  the  sound  of  a  rifle-shot  announced  action  had 
already  begun.  As  part  of  the  larger  action,  an  attack 
had  been  made  on  that  citadel.  The  attack  there  failed, 
and  the  failure  profoundly  influenced  the  action  at  every 
other  point,  but  it  was  also  curiously  significant.  Had 
the  sudden  assault  there  been  carried,  the  Rising  would 
have,  for  practical  purposes,  succeeded.  The  chief  heads 
of  government  would  have  been  captured  and  the 
machinery  of  government  would  have  been  destroyed. 
But  the  attack  blundered,  the  policeman  at  the  gates  was 
shot,  and  the  great  gates  at  once  were  closed.  Thus, 
though  as  a  consequence  of  that  blunder  the  citadel  was 
held,  the  guardian  at  the  gate  died.  It  was  a  tragic 
symbol,  for  the  historic  effect  of  the  Rising,  so  begun, 
was  to  remove  the  civic  guardian  and  to  open  a  war  that 
was  not  to  conclude  until  Dublin  Castle  itself  had  fallen. 

Elsewhere  there  was  better  success.  The  Military 
Council   occupied  the  Post  Office.     With  its  members 

*35 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

were  the  military  staff,  and  James  Connolly,  in  command 
of  the  entire  operations  in  Dublin.  The  first,  battalion, 
under  Edward  Daly,  occupied  the  Four  Courts;  the 
second  battalion,  under  Thomas  MacDonagh,  occupied 
Jacob's  Biscuit  Factory;  the  third  battalion,  under  Eamon 
de  Valera,  occupied  Boland's  Mills;  the  fourth  battalion, 
under  Eamon  Ceannt,  occupied  the  South  Dublin  Union, 
controlling  Knightsbridge  Station.  In  addition  to  these 
the  North  Dublin  Union,  controlling  the  Broadstone 
Station,  was  occupied  by  a  force  operating  from  the  Four 
Courts,  and  a  small  force,  under  Thomas  Ashe  and  Richard 
Mulcahy,  operated  in  the  county  to  the  north  of  the  city, 
to  cut  off  railway  and  other  access  from  that  direction. 

The  intention  of  this  disposition  is  easy  to  follow.  A 
ring  of  forts  was  held  around  the  city,  placed  at  strategic 
points,  and  in  buildings  that  lent  themselves  to  defence. 
In  this  way  it  was  expected  that  the  city  could  be  held 
for  a  considerable  length  of  time.  The  disposition  had 
been  devised  when  plans  were  made  for  action  throughout 
the  country,  and  thus  there  were  reasons  to  suppose  that 
the  city,  so  surrounded,  could  be  held  long  enough  for 
help  to  arrive  both  directly  from  the  country  and  as  a 
consequence  of  concerted  action  there. 

Unfortunately  for  these  plans,  the  action  in  the 
country  had  effectually  been  frustrated  by  Eoin  Mac- 
Neill's  order.  Moreover,  the  effect  in  Dublin  itself  of 
that  order  was  that  only  a  section  of  the  Dublin  Brigade 
acted  on  the  hasty  mobilization  at  the  last  moment. 
The  entire  body  that  went  into  action  on  that  Monday 
comprised  about  eight  hundred  of  the  Volunteers  and 
some  two  hundred  of  the  Citizen  Army.     During  that 

136 


EASTER    WEEK  :     A    CHAPTER    IN    PARENTHESIS 

day,  and  during  the  following  day,  a  scattered  few 
joined  their  comrades,  but  these  did  not  amount  to  much 
more  than  a  hundred.  Among  them  was  O'Rahilly. 
He  had  been  opposed  to  the  Rising,  and  had  on  Saturday 
night  carried  Eoin  MacNeill's  countermanding  order  to 
Limerick  and  Cork  cities.  Finding  on  his  return  that 
some  of  the  Volunteers  were  going  into  action,  he  threw 
in  his  lot  with  them  and  joined  their  meagre  company  as 
a  matter  of  honourable  obligation.  Thus,  through  that 
week's  fighting,  not  more  than  eleven  hundred  men  were 
engaged  in  die  attempt  to  hold  the  city. 

With  so  few  engaged  in  that  wide-flung  disposition, 
not  much  could  be  attempted.    Yet,  of  all  the  command- 
ants, only  Eamon  de  Valera  and  Edward  Daly  showed 
any   real   tactical   skill   or   recognized   what   tiieir   task 
demanded  of   them.     The  others  held   their  fortresses 
against  all  comers.     At  Jacob's  Factory  none  came,  and 
the  days  passed  without  record  of  a  single  engagement. 
At  the  South  Dublin  Union  the  fighting  was  heavy,  and 
that  the  defence  was  fearless  and  stubborn  the  presence 
there  of  Eamon  Ceannt  and  Cathal  Brugha  is  enough 
to  indicate.     But  only  Eamon  de  Valera  and  Edward 
Daly  used  their  fortresses,  not  (as  did  the  others)  for 
defence  merely,  but  as  the  centre  and  pivot  of  operations 
throughout   the   whole   area   of   their  command.     The 
force  in  the  country,  under  Thomas  Ashe  and  Richard 
Mulcahy,  had  of  necessity  to  operate  over  a  wide  area; 
and   it   is   significant   that   the   commandants   of   these 
three  forces  v/ere  the  most,  successful  of  the  week.    Their 
defence  was  never  pierced;  and,  not  being  confined  to 
any  one  point,  it  could  not  be  encircled  and  neglected. 

J37 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

The  most  conspicuous  success  fell  to  Eamon  de  Valera 
— who  thereby  afterwards  became  the  hero  and  darling 
of  the  Rising.  His  operations  were  brilliant.  Consider- 
ing how  meagre  his  force  was,  they  were  remarkable. 
He  lay  across  the  roads  along  which  the  reinforcements, 
that  were  hurried  over  from  England  had  to  pass  on  their 
way  to  the  city.  By  placing  small  groups  at  strategic 
houses,  chosen  skilfully,  he  conveyed  the  impression  of 
a  strong  force  and  made  the  way  impassable.  The 
heaviest  British  casualties  occurred  in  his  area.  As 
troops  were  landed  at  Kingstown,  they  were  hurried 
through  the  district  he  held.  He  waited  till  they  were 
well  enmeshed,  and  then  opened  fire  on  them  from  all 
sides.  The  result  was  that  very  heavy  losses  were  in- 
curred by  them,  whereas  his  own  losses  were  small. 

As  a  result,  his  area  of  command  remained  im- 
pregnable to  the  last.  He  was  held  engaged  to  the  end, 
it  is  true;  but  the  incoming  troops  were  taken  into  the 
city  by  other  ways.  They  swung  to  the  west,  and  moved 
into  the  city  by  Clanbrassil  Street,  within  a  revolver-shot 
of  Jacob's  Factory,  where  Thomas  MacDonagh's  com- 
mand awaited  attack. 

Further  to  the  west,  the  South  Dublin  Union  was 
encircled  by  attack;  and  while  Eamon  Ceannt's  men 
were  held  cooped  there,  British  troops  on  Tuesday 
night  and  on  Wednesday  morning  penetrated  to  the 
city  along  Thomas  Street,  protected  by  the  houses  from 
raking  fire  from  the  Four  Courts  across  the  river.  Thus 
they  reached  Dublin  Castle,  and  on  Thursday  were 
passed  across  Grattan's  Bridge  and  along  Capel  Street 
to  surround  the  headquarters  of  the  Volunteers  at  the 

i38 


EASTER    WEEK  '.     A    CHAPTER    IN    PARENTHESIS 

Post  Office,  so  cutting  off  connection  with,  and  any 
possible  help  from,  those  who,  from  the  Four  Courts  to 
the  North  Dublin  Union,  had  successfully  held  the  north- 
west of  the  city,  and  by  street  operations  resisted  penetra- 
tion from  that  side. 

This  was  the  beginning  of  the  end.  The  circle  had 
been  pierced  from  the  south  and  the  south-west,  and  the 
Post  Office  was  surrounded  on  all  sides  except  the  east. 
To  the  east  no  escape  was  possible  because  the  broad 
avenue  of  O'Connell  Street  lay  open  to  scathing  fire, 
rocked  by  snipers  and  machine-guns.  In  the  meantime, 
artillery  had  been  mounted  in  College  Green,  and  from 
there  on  Thursday  evening  incendiary  shells  had  (con- 
trary to  all  that  James  Connolly  had  so  confidently 
expected)  been  poured  on  the  Post  Office  and  the  build- 
ings in  O'Connell  Street  about  die  Post  Office.  The 
entire  lower  end  of  the  street  burned  in  a  huge  conflagra- 
tion that  lit  the  whole  city.  When  an  escape  was  made 
from  the  burning  building,  a  ring  of  troops  and  fire 
barred  all  hope  of  escape  from  the  network  of  lanes  in 
which  the  last  defence  on  Friday  was  made  and  the  final 
surrender  on  Saturday  agreed. 

When  news  of  that  final  surrender  was  conveyed  from 
the  scattered  headquarters  to  the  various  units  of  com- 
mand the  men  were  indignant,  and  there  was  great 
difficulty  in  getting  them  to  accept  a  situation  they  could 
not  understand.  At  Jacob's,  for  example,  no  fighting 
had  taken  place.  Under  Eamon  de  Valera  and 
Edward  Daly  fighting  had  been  heavy;  it  had  been 
continuous,  and  some  of  the  men  were  maddened  from 
lack  of  sleep,  relief  having  been  almost  impossible  with 

J39 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

so  few  to  call  upon  during  five  days'  and  nights'  con- 
tinuous engagement;  but  their  areas  had  not  been  pierced, 
or  even  seriously  penetrated.  Even  at  the  South  Dublin 
Union,  where  the  outer  buildings  had  been  abandoned, 
a  much  longer  defence  seemed  possible.  Nowhere  was 
it  realized  that  the  destruction  of  headquarters  was 
strategic  defeat,  compelling  surrender  in  the  alternative 
of  slaughter.  The  various  commandants  had  the 
utmost  difficulty  in  getting  their  men  to  appreciate  a 
situation  tiiat  was  not  immediate  to  them.  Moreover, 
blood  was  up,  and  no  man  would  hear  of  surrender. 
Hardly  could  the  commandants  succeed  in  winning 
compliance  with  that  final  order  sent  from  headquarters; 
but  by  the  end  of  that  Saturday  the  surrender  had  been 
accepted  by  each  unit,  and  lines  of  sullen,  rebellious  men 
marched  out  to  be  put  under  guard. 

So  ended  six  days  of  stubborn  fighting;  but  so  began 
the  Rising.  Time  was  to  prove  that  what  had  happened 
was  not  the  end,  but  the  beginning.  The  thought  of 
warfare  had  been  kindled,  yet  to  burst  into  flame 
throughout  the  country;  and  a  lesson  had  been  learnt 
for  such  warfare — never  to  be  pinned  to  a  building,  never 
to  abandon  loose,  guerilla  tactics.  In  the  day  of  black 
defeat,  of  surrender  and  disaster,  these  things  were  not 
to  be  seen.     Time  had  yet  to  unfold  them. 

§8 

Even  in  Dublin,  within  a  few  hundred  yards  of  the 
actual  fighting,  none  knew  what  was  happening,  beyond 
the  bare  information  that  the  Volunteers  had  occupied 

140 


EASTER    WEEK  I     A    CHAPTER    IN    PARENTHESIS 

prominent  buildings  and  were  being  attacked.  The  city, 
by  night  and  day,  rattled  to  the  fusillade  of  firing;  and, 
on  Thursday  and  the  succeeding  nights,  it  became  like  a 
room  illuminated  by  the  monstrous  torch  lit  in  O'Connell 
Street;  but  news  there  was  none.  Rumour  flew  laden 
with  fantastic  stories — true  and  false,  the  true  not  less 
fantastic  than  the  false — but  they  were  evidence,  not 
of  fact,  but  of  the  fertility  of  invention.  The  area 
of  fighting  lay  impassably  removed  from  its  adjoining 
streets. 

There  were  two  men  to  whom  that  impassable  distance 
was  the  cause  of  a  long  agony.  These  were  Arthur 
Griffith  and  Eoin  MacNeill.  On  the  Sunday  following 
the  previous  night's  decision  to  call  off  the  Rising,  Mrs. 
Griffith  had  gone  to  spend  holiday  in  Cork  at  her 
husband's  wish,  and  he  was  left  in  charge  of  the  two 
children.  It  was  while  he  was  anchored  thus  that,  early 
in  the  afternoon  of  Monday,  a  neighbour  called  to  him : 
:<  How  is  it  you're  not  with  your  friends  at  the  Post 
Office?"  And  thus,  for  the  first  time,  he  learned  what 
had  been  done  that  day. 

What  could  he  do?  What  was  he  to  do?  If  he  asked 
a  neighbour  to  tend  the  children  his  intention  would  have 
been  guessed,  and  it  was  unlikely  that  he  would  have 
been  allowed  to  get  as  far  as  the  Post  Office.  He  lifted 
the  children  into  his  neighbour's  garden,  instructed  them 
what  to  do,  and  made  his  way  at  once  to  the  Post  Office, 
to  take  his  part  in  an  enterprise  of  which  he  resolutely 
disapproved.  He  saw  the  end  only  too  clearly;  but  he 
saw  no  alternative  for  him  but  to  take  his  place  with 
those  who  went  towards  that  end. 

141 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

At  the  Post  Office,  however,  he  met  an  unflinching 
refusal  to  permit  him  to  share  that  end.  The  military 
men,  said  Sean  MacDermott,  knew  to  what  end  they 
were  going;  and  they  went  to  that  end  in  happy  con- 
fidence that  all  would  be  well  for  the  nation,  when  it 
came  to  gather  the  fruit  of  their  action;  but  Ireland,  he 
said,  needed  Arthur  Griffith  living.  The  greater  service 
for  him  would  be  to  remain,  when  they  had  gone,  to 
live  and  gather  that  fruit.  They  were  playing  their  part. 
He  must  play  his;  and  his  was  to  live,  as  he  had  lived, 
the  teacher  of  the  people,  according  to  the  different 
services  to  which  they  had  been  called. 

So  he  was  compelled  to  return;  and  for  two  days  he 
lived  in  an  agony  of  spirit.  Then  on  the  Thursday  he 
conceived  the  plan  of  a  call  to  the  country  to  come  to 
the  help  of  the  men  in  Dublin.  He  rode  northward  by 
bicycle  into  the  country,  and  went  by  country  byways  a 
long  journey  round  to  Rathfarnham  to  see  Eoin  Mac- 
Neill.  There  the  two  of  them  wrote  an  appeal  to  the 
country  to  rise  and  assist  Dublin,  and  they  arranged  for 
that  appeal  to  be  despatched.  But  that  night  O'Connell 
Street  was  in  flames,  and  the  beginning  of  the  end  was 
announced. 

The  appeal  was  never  sent.  In  any  event,  it  must  have 
come  to  nothing.  All  roads  were  held  by  military  and 
by  armed  police,  all  travellers  stopped,  and  a  close  watch 
kept  on  all  persons  thought  to  be  dangerous.  The  state 
of  the  country,  indeed,  was  one  of  helpless  ignorance 
and  uneasy  fear. 


142 


CHAPTER    SEVEN 

MY  FIRST  ARREST 

§i 

IN  Achill,  Tuesday,  the  25th  of  April,  was  a  day  of  un- 
imaginable beauty.  The  air  was  filled  with  sunlight, 
like  a  crystal  cup  filled  with  golden  liquid  that  brimmed 
above  the  lip.  The  mountains  stood  gaunt  and  bare 
against  the  pale  sky,  with  a  delicate  mist  clothing  their 
dark  sides  softly.  The  bare  fields  and  heavy  boglands 
were  scarfed  with  colour.  The  sea  flowed  to  the  western 
horizon,  its  winter  rage  laid  by,  the  sunlight  glinting  in 
the  waves  of  an  offshore  wind  like  the  spears  of  a  count- 
less host;  and  the  islands  of  the  bay,  from  Clare  to 
Inishbofin,  lay  in  its  waters  like  wonderful  jewels  that 
glowed  under  the  sun.  Earth,  in  that  wild  and  desolate 
place,  was  altogether  lovely,  sunk  in  deep,  reticent  peace 
and  clothed  with  delicate  and  exquisite  colour. 

The  post  that  day  was  late,  and,  loth  to  begin  work,  I 
had  spent  the  morning  looking  along  the  half-mile  of 
road  till  it  bent  behind  the  heath  for  the  rider  on  the 
horse  that  was  our  only  connection  with  the  big  world. 
It  was  not  till  long  after  noon  that  I  saw  a  friend  pulling 
her  bicycle  over  the  bog  towards  the  house.  As  she  came 
nearer  I  saw  the  traces  of  tears  on  her  cheeks,  and 
wondered. 

'There  is  no  post,"  she  answered  my  inquiry;  "but 

*43 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

there's  terrible  news.  The  driver  of  the  mail  says  they've 
been  fighting  in  Dublin.  Dawson  Street  is  full  of  dead 
and  wounded  men.  The  Volunteers  hold  the  Bank  of 
Ireland,  the  General  Post.  Office,  and  buildings  all  over 
Dublin.  The  soldiers  are  attacking  them  everywhere 
with  machine-guns,  and  the  slaughter  is  terrible." 

Hardly  could  I  hear  her.  I  looked  on  that  day  of 
breathless  beauty,  of  peace  poised  in  perfect  balance. 
Voices  rose  up  from  the  land,  where  the  spring  work, 
long  delayed  after  a  bad  winter,  was  in  full  swing. 
Voices  of  men,  voices  of  women,  and  the  barking  of 
dogs  flowed  over  the  land  pleasantly.  It  was  not  strange 
that  the  mind  found  some  difficulty  in  recognizing  the 
meaning  of  this  tale  of  war  that  came  like  a  stream  of 
blood  violently  across  the  peace  and  beauty  of  the  day. 

Yet  already,  as  I  looked,  it  was  apparent  that  that 
stream  was  spreading.  Knots  of  men  were  standing  in 
the  fields  and  on  the  road  in  discussion,  and  the  women 
were  leaving  their  work  on  the  land  and  moving  towards 
their  cottages.  All  further  thought  of  work  was  im- 
possible; and  I,  too,  went  into  the  villages  to  gather  what 
news  was  to  be  had.  In  one  of  the  villages  a  Sunday's 
paper  was  discovered,  in  which  appeared  Eoin  MacNeill's 
countermanding  order.  That  only  complicated  the 
mystery.  What  was  the  occasion  of  this  order?  In 
face  of  this  order  how  had  fighting  occurred?  What 
was  the  "critical  position"  to  which  it  referred?  The 
original  manoeuvres,  so  countermanded,  had  apparently 
been  ordered  for  Sunday.  How,  then,  has  fighting 
followed  on  the  Monday? 

The  only  explanation  that  expounded  these  mysteries 

144 


MY    FIRST    ARREST 


was  that  Dublin  Castle  had  proposed  to  take  advantage 
of  the  original  manoeuvres  to  Strike  their  long-expected 
blow,  and,  finding  itself  baulked  by  the  countermanding 
order,  had  attacked  headquarters  the  next  day.  This, 
therefore,  was  the  version  accepted  by  us  all;  but  it  was 
a  version  that  raised  a  grave  question  in  one's  mind.  If 
one's  countrymen  were  being  attacked,  pretty  plain  and 
clear  the  duty  seemed.  It  was  difficult  to  sit  idle  while 
such  a  thing  occurred.  But  how  could  help  be  given? 
Already,  hard  upon  the  heels  of  the  news,  pickets  of 
police,  with  carbines  slung  about  their  shoulders, 
appeared  in  the  villages;  and  during  the  afternoon  word 
was  brought  to  me  privately  from  a  member  of  the  local 
force,  who  had  helped  me  before,  that  they  were  under 
orders  to  arrest  me  if  I  moved  outside  a  stated  radius  from 
my  house.  A  special  picket  took  up  its  quarters  within  a 
hundred  yards  of  the  house. 

However,  die  same  thought  had  come  to  others.  After 
dark  a  gentle  knock  fell  on  our  window,  and  two  men 
softly  entered  the  house.  One  was  a  native  of  the  island, 
the  other  was  Michael  Kilroy,  from  Newport,  on  the 
mainland.1  He  had  been  sent  from  the  men  in  the 
county  to  ask  me  to  lead  them  in  an  attempt  to  help  the 
men  in  Dublin  by  creating  a  diversion  in  the  west.  When 
he  left  after  midnight,  going  across  the  bog,  it  was 
arranged  that  I  should  leave  the  island  on  Thursday. 
The  roads  were,  of  course,  carefully  guarded.     It  was 

1  Michael  Kilroy  afterwards  fought  with  courage  during  the 
time  of  the  Black-and-Tan  campaign.  In  1922  and  1923  he  fought 
with  the  Irregulars  against  the  Free  State;  and,  as  I  write,  he  is 
now  in  gaol. 

I45  L 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

therefore  agreed  that  I  should  go  out  by  Currach,  as 
though  for  fishing,  and  be  rowed  to  Achill  Beg.  From 
there  I  was  to  be  rowed  to  Newport,  to  arrive  there  about 
ten  at  night,  when  the  men  from  Castlebar,  Westport, 
and  Newport  would  be  gathered  to  meet  me.  We 
hoped,  then,  to  take  the  police  barracks  at  these  places 
by  rapid  strokes  before  dawn,  and  beyond  that  we  did 
not  trouble  to  inquire. 

We  had  no  illusions  about  our  plan.  None  of  us 
expected  to  survive.  Yet  it  was  not  in  madness  we  made 
the  plan,  but  as  men  who  saw  no  alternative.  During 
Thursday  morning,  however,  a  message  came  from 
Michael  Kilroy  saying  that  the  priest  at  Castlebar  (where 
nearly  all  the  rifles  were  on  which  we  relied)  had  inter- 
vened and  had  refused  to  allow  the  men  there  to  make 
any  move.  In  face  of  this,  he  said,  he  himself  had 
cancelled  everything,  and  was  sending  me  word  at  once 
to  make  no  move.  The  priest  was  a  wise  man.  Action 
taken  merely  to  relieve  one's  own  distress  is  nearly  always 
wrong;  and  nothing  we  could  have  done  would  have 
been  of  the  slightest  use. 

§2 

It  only  remained  to  wait.  It  was  impossible  to  work 
by  day,  and  it  was  even  difficult  to  sleep  by  night.  No 
week  could  have  passed  more  slowly.  No  days  could 
have  been  more  full  of  anxiety.  In  the  meantime 
rumours  flew  thick  and  fast,  contradicted  often  as  soon 
as  they  were  current,  giving  way  to  others  more  fantastic 
still.     It  is  curious  to  look  back  upon  them  now,  for 

146 


MY    FIRST    ARREST 

they  show  how  the  moving  yeast  of  public  opinion  works 
when  it  is  cut  off  from  certitude  of  information.  We 
might  in  Achill  during  that  week  have  been  carried 
back  three  centuries  of  time,  for  we  were  without  tele- 
graphs, posts,  and  newspapers,  without  modern  appli- 
ances of  information  (and  misinformation),  and  were 
left  to  rely  on  just  such  windy  rumours  carried  from 
mouth  to  mouth  over  long  distances  as  the  Elizabethans 
used  for  the  interest  of  their  lives.  The  rumours  of  that 
week,  therefore,  as  corrected  by  what  was  afterwards 
discovered  when  the  modern  machinery  began  again  to 
work,  throw  a  curious  light  on  the  news-sheets  of  older 
times,  on  which  historians  rely  in  their  grave  com- 
pilations. 

Particularly  curious  is  it  to  note  how  nearness  shaped 
a  semblance  of  accuracy,  and  how  distance  magnified  in- 
accuracy. On  Tuesday  news  came  that  Co.  Galway  was 
'  up."  There,  it  was  said  (and  said  truly),  that  Liam 
Mellowes  was  in  command,  and  that  he  had  returned 
from  exile  in  England,  disguised  as  a  priest,  to  take  the 
command.  Later  rumour  told  that  he  had  marched  on 
the  city  of  Galway,  but  had  retired  under  fire  of  gun- 
boats, and  was  encamped  at  Athenry.  Then  that  he 
had  marched  on  Athlone,  and  had  destroyed  the  bridge 
over  the  Shannon  there,  but  had  retreated  before  a  strong 
force  of  military  with  artillery. 

Verisimilitude  began  to  receive  its  first  serious  warp  at 
Athlone,  apparently.  Everything  refracted  from  beyond 
that  lens  was  unrecognizable — often  the  mirage  of  a 
mirage.  Cork  and  Limerick,  we  heard  with  every  accent 
of  definition,  were  "  up."    Kerry  had  seized  the  Atlantic 

M7 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

cable  and  wireless  stations,  and  the  Volunteers  were  in 
direct  correspondence  with  America.  It  was  more  than 
interesting  to  hear  history  make  its  contribution;  for 
Wexford,  we  heard  on  Thursday,  was  "  up,"  and  that 
the  whole  county  was  in  a  blaze.  It  was  agreed  that 
little  other  might  be  expected  from  a  county  that  had 
done  so  well  in  1798,  the  changes  of  a  century  being  dis- 
missed without  further  thought — an  intimate  faculty, 
fruitful  of  much  that  was  to  come.  Less  easy  to  follow 
was  the  news  that  came  with  this,  that  Drogheda  and 
Dundalk  had  risen,  and  had  attempted  to  destroy  the 
railroads  leading  to  the  north.  Yet  not  all  came  from  a 
distance  that  now  seems  unintelligible,  for  on  Wednesday 
we  heard  that  Ballina,  some  fifty  miles  away,  had  risen 
and  had  captured  Killala  Bay,  but  here  again  it  is  possible 
to  see  the  historic  memory  at  work.  It  was  difficult  to 
know  whether  all  Ireland  were  in  a  flame,  or  a  handful 
of  Volunteers  were  being  mercilessly  slaughtered  in 
Dublin.  The  two,  in  truth,  were  believed  together.  Yet 
no  one  doubted  that  Cork,  Limerick,  Wexford,  and 
Ballina  had  approved  themselves  worthy  of  the  seed  got 
from  the  loins  of  their  splendid  past. 

The  police,  of  course,  were  busy  correcting  the  flight 
of  rumour.  They  posted  reassuring  bulletins  each  day 
on  all  telegraph-poles.  Folk  gathered  around  these  and 
read  them,  and  turned  from  them  in  silent,  deep  distrust. 
There  we  read  for  the  first  time  that  Sir  Roger  Casement 
had  attempted  to  land  on  the  Kerry  coast  with  rifles  from 
a  German  transport,  but  that  he  had  been  arrested  on 
landing  from  a  small  boat,  and  that  the  transport  had 
been  sunk.     "  German  help  is  now  at  the  bottom  of  the 

148 


MY    FIRST    ARREST 


sea,"  declared  the  notice.  Nobody  believed  a  word 
of  that  notice,  or  of  any  notice  that  kept  the  same 
company. 

From  the  coastguards  on  Wednesday  news  was  circu- 
lated that  the  German  navy  had  attacked  in  force  on  the 
east,  coast,  of  England  in  the  attempt  to  effect  a  landing 
of  troops,  but  that  all  the  German  fleet  had  been  sunk, 
the  British  fleet  losing  two  battleships.  This  was  re- 
ceived with  measured  scepticism.  One  of  the  coast- 
guard's wives,  however,  the  following  day  was  heard  to 
say  that  not  two,  but  eight  British  battleships  had  been 
sunk.  This  was  whispered  swiftly  from  village  to 
village  without  comment,  but  with  many  a  significant 
nod. 

So  the  week  passed  anxiously,  and  as  it  passed  the 
problem  of  food  supply  began  to  cause  alarm.  If  the 
Rising  had  lasted  a  week,  it  might  well  last  very  much 
longer,  and  then  where  was  food  to  be  had?  With  the 
raising  of  that  question  anger  turned  definitely  against, 
the  Volunteers  in  Dublin.  Even  those  who  had  most 
stoutly  slood  for  them  now  were  heard  to  say  that  this 
thing  had  gone  far  enough.  Freedom  was  all  very 
well,  but  a  people  had  to  live.  On  Friday  no  old-age 
pensions  were  available;  and  loud  was  the  outcry. 
Padraic  Pearse's  faith  might  well  have  been  tested  if  he 
had  heard  the  denunciations  that  arose,  and  included  the 
names  of  the  historic  heroes  of  Irish  Insurrection  when 
those  names  were  invoked  to  justify  the  present  deed. 
The  nation  that  was  to  arise  in  wonder  like  a  phoenix 
from  the  ashes  of  sacrifice  was,  just  then,  when  he  was 
being  driven  by  flames  and  machine-guns  to  surrender, 

149 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

energetically  thinking  of  imports  of  foreign  flour  and  of 
weekly  pensions  from  the  British  post-office. 

Then  on  the  Monday  came  news  that  Padraic  Pearse 
had  surrendered,  and  that  the  commandant  under  him 
were  accepting  the  order,  though  reluctantly.  At  once 
the  mood  of  the  people  began  to  make  a  slow  change, 
such  a  change  as  he  had  foreseen.  The  first  week's  strain 
was  released  by  news  that  told  of  defeat,  an  ancient  tale 
in  Ireland,  full  of  old  honour.  On  Tuesday  the  mail 
was  resumed.  Newspapers  came  and  were  passed 
eagerly  from  hand  to  hand.  The  people  were  afraid, 
for  martial  law  was  proclaimed,  and  the  police  moved 
about  through  the  villages  in  small  bands  with  carbines 
slung  over  their  shoulders;  but  the  people  were  sullen, 
and  none  passed  the  friendly  time  of  day  to  the  police 
that  had  been  usual  a  week  before.  The  Rising  was 
beginning  to  take  its  place  among  Ireland's  tragic  efforts 
for  freedom.  Its  immediate  causes  were  not  known. 
Oddly  enough  folk  now  ceased  to  inquire  whether  it  had 
been  planned  or  provoked.  The  fact  of  its  failure  was 
enough,  and  that  fact  became  its  chief  success,  for  so  it 
became  kneaded  into  the  subconscious  memory  of 
history. 

The  change  spread  rapidly.  It  was  learned  that  a  large 
part  of  Dublin  lay  in  ruins  as  the  result  of  artillery  fire, 
and  the  papers  printed  illustrations  of  the  ruin.  Anger 
flamed  high  at  that.  Then,  as  the  next  week  passed, 
came  the  toll  of  executions.  The  sullen  fury  and 
exasperations  these  awoke  cannot  be  described.  After- 
wards I  learned  from  Arthur  Griffith  that  Sean  Mac- 
Dermott,  when  they  began,  and  just  before  he  was  led  to 

150 


MY    FIRST    ARREST 

his  own  trial  and  execution,  said  to  him  that  now  he  was 
assured  of  the  Tightness  of  the  Rising.  The  people,  he 
said,  would  have  turned  against  them  had  they  not  been 
executed,  and  never  again  would  it  be  possible  for  men 
to  rise  as  they  had  done;  but  now  that  they  were  to  be 
executed,  he  was  happy,  happy  in  the  knowledge  that 
the  people  would  rally  behind  their  act.  So  he  spoke  on 
the  eve  of  his  own  execution.  In  distant  Achill  I  saw 
the  change  happen.  Even  those  who  during  Easter 
Week  had  been  most  bitter  in  denunciation  of  the 
Volunteers,  now  turned  all  their  bitterness  and  anger 
against  their  executioners.  Before  the  executions  were 
finished  the  change  was  complete,  and  no  one  who  saw 
it  happen  could  doubt  that  it  was  so  deeply  seated  as  to 
be  permanent,  and  that  Padraic  Pearse's  prophetic  faith 
had  been  justified. 

If  anything  were  wanted  to  confirm  the  change,  it 
came  with  the  news  of  wholesale  arrests  reported  from 
all  over  the  country.  Not  a  parish,  it  seemed,  was  to 
escape.  No  one  who  had  been  in  any  way  connected 
publicly  with  Irish  affairs  was  to  escape,  and  even  those 
who  had  in  their  own  districts  made  for  themselves  a 
little  local  celebrity  were  destined  not  to  escape  the  net 
that  was  being  flung  so  widely.  Every  day  the  villagers 
came  to  me  and  urged  me  to  go  into  hiding,  bringing 
plans  how  this  could  be  done.  I  did  not  do  so.  The 
day  had  not  come  when  one  grew  accustomed  to  the 
thought  of  pending  arrest  and  was  prepared  on  an 
instant  to  find  cover  to  evade  it.  Arrest  still  seemed,  in 
Ireland  then,  a  fantastic  and  unbelievable  chance. 
Therefore  I  still  kept  my  place,  and  turned  back  to  the 

151 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

work  on  which  I  had  been  engaged  when  the  news  of 
the  Rising  had  come. 


§3 

A  week  after  this  I  sat  one  night  at  work  making 
notes  from  State  papers.  I  had  been  at  that  task  all  that 
day,  and  I  was  still  at  it  when,  about  two  in  the  morning, 
just  as  I  thought  to  turn  in  to  bed,  a  strong  presentiment 
fell  on  me  that  I  was  to  be  arrested  the  next  morning. 
It  came  suddenly,  and  stood  with  me  in  the  room  almost 
like  a  physical  presence;  and  it  affected  me  (it  itself,  that 
presence,  not  merely  the  fear  of  immediate  arrest)  with 
such  panic  that  I  had  the  utmost  difficulty  in  controlling 
myself.  I  thought  to  wake  and  tell  my  wife;  I  thought 
to  leave  the  house  and  take  cover  with  one  of  the  neigh- 
bours; and  there  is  no  doubt  but  that  I  would  have  done 
so,  except  that  to  do  so  would  have  been  to  yield  to  fear 
of  that  which  seemed  to  stand  in  the  room  with  me. 
Simple  opposition  to  that  intangible  presentiment  caused 
me  to  control  myself  in  its  presence,  and  without  change 
of  intention  to  turn  in  to  my  bed,  where  for  a  long  time 
I  lay  wakeful  and  wondering. 

Not  much  more  than  two  hours  later  we  were  wakened 
by  the  heavy  tramp  of  many  feet  running  down  the 
bohereen  in  time  together,  and  the  sound  of  men  scatter- 
ing and  running  around  the  house.  We  leapt  out  of 
bed,  and,  peering  through  the  curtains,  we  saw  two 
constables  at  each  window,  with  carbines  held  apprehen- 
sively at  the  ready. 

A  man  who  was  down  at  the  foreshore  at  dawn,  with 

152 


MY     FIRST    ARREST 


my  house  between  him  and  the  village,  afterwards 
described  the  scene  for  me.  The  whole  force  of  eighteen 
constables,  three  sergeants  and  a  district,  inspector  had 
arrived  by  motor  and  on  bicycles.  At  the  top  of  the 
bohereen,  not  a  hundred  yards  away,  they  had  been 
assembled  in  martial  array,  and  at  the  given  word  had 
charged  down  at  the  double  on  a  house  in  which  one 
man,  one  woman,  eight  hens,  and  fifteen  chickens  lay 
fast  asleep.    It  must  have  been  a  thrilling  sight  to  see. 

Loud  knocking  sounded  on  the  door,  and  I  went  to 
the  porch  to  parley  with  the  district  inspector,  in  order 
that  he  might  give  my  wife  time  to  dress.  But  while  I 
spoke  with  him  the  attack  began.  Some  heavy  balks 
of  timber  (flotsam,  rescued  from  the  sea)  lay  about  the 
house,  and  using  these  as  battering-rams  the  police 
charged  the  front  door,  which  they  soon  splintered. 
They  then  burst  into  the  house,  seized  hold  of  me,  and 
rushed  in  on  my  wife  while  she  was  dressing.  Nothing 
escaped  them.  They  spat  about  the  house  as  about  a  tap- 
room; and  then  began  to  tie  all  my  papers,  including 
literary  MSS.  and  historical  notes  representing  many 
years  of  study,  into  parcels.  Only  with  the  greatest  diffi- 
culty did  I  rescue  from  them  a  parcel  of  unused  manu- 
script paper,  which  they  had  triumphantly  parcelled  with 
the  rest. 

Then  I  was  taken  out  into  the  hurricane  of  wind  and 
cold,  miserable  rain  of  that  dawn  of  day.  A  constable 
sat  each  side  of  me  and  one  in  front,  with  the  district 
inspector  and  the  driver,  each  with  a  carbine  held  grimly 
between  his  knees.  I  was  to  be  taken  to  Castlebar  Gaol, 
I  was  told,  while  we  sped  down  through  the  sleeping 

*53 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

villages,  and  the  rain,  driven  upon  a  south- western  wind, 
lashed  our  faces  and  cried  wailing  about  the  car.  It  was 
a  miserable  journey  to  a  miserable  tune,  with  a  miserable 
end  in  view.  Yet  before  it  started  an  incident  had 
occurred  that  had  furnished  a  glow  and  touch  of  warmth 
pleasant  to  reflect  upon.  It  was  an  incident  that  could 
not  in  any  circumstances  (much  less  in  those  circum- 
stances) have  happened  outside  of  Ireland. 

Just  as  I  had  been  put  into  the  motor,  while  all  the 
police  stood  by  their  bicycles,  Sergeant  Donovan,  of  the 
neighbouring  station  of  Mallaranny,  had  stepped  forward 
with  his  hand  outstretched :  "  I  am  sorry  to  be  taking 
part  in  this  day's  work,  sir,"  he  said.  "  I  never  heard 
the  neighbours  speak  but  good  of  you.  You  were  always 
a  good  neighbour  with  the  poor  people,  and  there's  no 
harm  attached  to  a  man  diat's  that  way.  But  these  are 
queer  times.  I  hope  you  may  return  soon  to  us  the  way 
we  always  knew  you."  "That's  right,  Donovan,"  said 
his  district  inspector;  "  but  now  we  must  be  going." 

§4 
I  had  felt  miserable  enough,  yet,  all  things  considered, 
I  had  been  strangely  unperturbed  and  calm.  Perhaps  die 
swiftness  of  events  had,  to  some  extent,  benumbed  me. 
Pardy,  it  was  due  to  the  fact  that  I  was  in  face  of  my 
captors,  before  whom  no  one  could  permit  a  tremor  to 
be  shown,  or  for  that  matter  to  be  felt,  lest  it  should 
appear.  But  when  the  motor  drove  within  the  prison 
gates,  a  chill  fear  crept  over  me,  and  hardly  could  it  be 
controlled. 

*54 


MY     FIRST    ARREST 


However,  it  was  not  till  all  my  things  had  been  taken 
from  me,  and  I  had  been  placed  in  a  reception-cell,  that 
that  fear  rose  like  a  spectre.  A  reception-cell  is  usually 
about  two-thirds  the  size  of  an  ordinary  cell,  with  only  a 
very  small  window  high  in  the  wall,  and  very  dark.  Its 
only  furniture  is  a  little  stool.  When  the  door  clanged 
behind  me,  and  I  heard  the  key  grating  in  the  lock,  I 
glanced  quickly  round  the  little  space  that  held  me,  and 
a  sensation  as  of  suffocation  came  over  me.  I  was  almost 
overpowered  by  the  desire  to  shout  aloud,  to  throw  my- 
self on  die  wall  and  batter  on  it  with  my  fists.  This  was 
followed  by  the  thought  of  utter  helplessness.  Tears  had 
need  to  be  controlled.  I  remember  standing  in  the 
middle  of  that  little  cell  and  vowing,  if  ever  I  came  out 
of  it,  that  I  would  never  permit  the  caging  of  birds.1 
Not  that  I  had  ever  desired  to  cage  a  bird,  but  now  that 
the  terror  of  confinement  became  a  distinct  and  poignant 
reality,  it  expressed  itself  in  that  earnest  protest. 

I  do  not  know  how  long  I  was  in  diat  little  cell.  Time 
ceases  to  count  when  emotion  is  so  heavily  charged.  But 
after  a  time  I  was  removed  to  my  allotted  cell,  not  nearly 
so  clean  as  the  other,  but  (though  the  difference  was  really 
not  much)  the  sensation  of  having  a  larger  amount  of  air 
to  breathe  and  a  larger  area  of  floor-space  over  which  to 
pace,  was  one  of  decided  relief,  in  spite  of  that  horrible 
sound  of  the  clanging  of  the  door  and  grating  of  the  lock. 
There  for  the  first  time  I  saw  the  equipment  of  a  cell. 
Beside  the  door  a  hinged  flap  served  for  table,  and 
beneath  it  stood  a  deal  stool.    In  the  further  corner  stood 

1  I  learned  afterwards  that  this  was  the  first  thought  of  most  of 
those  who  were  locked  in  a  prison-cell  for  the  first  time. 

155 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

the  bed-board,  uplifted  against  the  wall,  with  blankets 
draped  over  it.  At  its  base  was  coiled  the  mattress. 
High  in  the  wall  opposite  the  door  was  the  window, 
heavily  barred,  with  little  panes  of  dark  grated  glass.  In 
the  right-hand  corner  stood  a  zinc  basin  for  washing 
purposes.  The  lower  part  of  the  walls  was  painted  a 
dun,  indiscriminate  brown,  and  the  upper  part  was  white- 
washed. In  the  middle  of  the  right-hand  wall  hung  a 
copy  of  the  prison  rules  and  regulations  pasted  on  card- 
board. 

A  cheerless  morning,  a  cheerless  experience,  a  cheer- 
less abode.  Even  grimness,  that  faithful  consolation  in 
adversity,  was  hard  to  summon.  I  sat  on  my  little  stool 
to  take  stock  of  the  occasion;  and  then  resolved  to  take 
refuge  in  sleep.  I  put  down  my  bed-board,  and  stretched 
my  mattress  and  myself  upon  it.  It  was  not  to  be  so. 
The  door  had  a  little  spy-hole,  through  which  the  warder 
on  his  rounds  peered  on  his  prisoners  lest  they  might 
escape  him.  I  heard  the  flap  of  the  spy-hole  move,  and 
instantly  the  key  grated  in  the  lock  and  the  door  was 
flung  open.  The  warder  was  a  dark-visaged  man,  with 
a  harsh  northern  accent.  He  shouted  when  he  spoke  as 
though  he  addressed  a  herd  of  cattle.  He  had  got  that 
habit  from  marshalling  men  over  whom  he  had  un- 
limited power.  He  shouted  now.  The  whole  prison  re- 
sounded with  his  voice,  the  passages  outside  echoing  with 
his  threats  and  abuse.  He  would,  he  said,  soon  lick  me 
into  shape,  grand  and  all  though  I  thought  I  was.  No 
bed-board  was  to  remain  down  after  six  in  the  morn- 
ing, or  to  be  put  down  again  until  after  eight  at  night. 
I  was  to  put  my  bed-board  as  I  had  found  it;  and  if  ever 

156 


MY     FIRST    ARREST 

I  was  found  interfering  with  it  again,  I  would  soon  find 
how  it  was  to  do  without  one  at  all. 

He  left  me  feeling  as  though  I  had  been  flung  into  a 
cesspool.  Yet  his  visit  was  salutary.  It  whipped  one  out 
of  one's  misery.  It  gave  one  something  to  fight  for.  I 
turned  to  the  rules  and  regulations  displayed  on  the  wall, 
and  read  them  carefully  and  completely.  They  were  set 
forth  in  sections,  according  to  different  categories  of 
prisoners.  One  of  the  sections  related  to  "  Prisoners 
Awaiting  Trial,"  and  this  I  mastered  in  all  its  details. 
Later  in  the  morning  the  Acting  Governor  (he  had  been 
chief  warder,  and  still  wore  that  uniform,  though  these, 
then,  to  me  were  distinctions  without  meaning)  came  to 
see  me,  to  give  me  general  and  particular  instructions. 
By  that  time  I  was  a  master  of  the  rules  and  regulations; 
and  I  interrogated  him  on  their  application  to  myself.  It 
required  some  address  at  first  to  get  him  to  converse,  for 
he  was  prepared  harshly  and  instantly  to  strike  down  any 
attempt  at  conversation.  It  was  necessary,  at  first, 
casually  and  quietly  to  ask  him  for  an  interpretation  of 
the  rules;  and  then,  when  once  the  net  of  discussion  was 
cast,  it  was  not  so  difficult  to  hold  him  in  its  toils. 

Whatever  was  there  in  the  rules  to  be  claimed,  I 
claimed.  I  claimed  the  right  to  books,  to  tobacco,  to 
daily  newspapers,  to  daily  letters  in  and  out,  to  daily 
visitors,  to  my  own  meals  ordered  from  the  town,  and  to 
getting  another  prisoner,  if  I  so  wished  it,  to  clean  out 
my  cell  each  day — nothing  was  omitted.  At  first  he 
sought  to  put  me  by.  But  he  could  not  deny  that  I  was 
at  least  a  "Prisoner  Awaiting  Trial";  and  these  were, 
his  own  rules  declared,  the  rights  accorded  to  that  type 

157 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

of  prisoner.  There  they  were  in  print :  his  responsibility 
and  my  right.  He  looked  at  that  troublesome  document 
with  rising  exasperation.    Then  he  exploded. 

"  You  forget,"  he  said,  "  these  aren't  ordinary  times. 
You  are  under  martial  law  now.  The  soldiers  are  the 
masters  of  us  all  now,  so  they  are.  I  amn't  very  sure  that 
I  know  where  I  am  myself,  rules  don't  apply  now. 
Nothing  applies.  Don't  I  get  my  instructions  from  day 
to  day  only?  They  might  take  you  out  to-morrow  and 
shoot  you,  so  they  might,  and  nobody  to  save  you,  and 
nobody  to  say  a  word  again  them.  Isn't  the  whole  of  the 
city  of  Dublin  in  ruins?  I  cannot  give  you  but  what  I'm 
bid;  and  those  rules  don't  relate  to  you — they  don't  relate 
to  anybody — there  aren't  such  thing  as  rules." 

So  I  fell  back  on  my  prepared  second  line.  If  there 
were  no  such  things  as  rules,  then  I  might  be  permitted 
to  keep  my  bed-board  down,  as  a  more  comfortable  place 
for  reading  than  the  stool.  He  accepted  the  concession. 
He  also  allowed  me  the  book  I  had  brought  in  my 
bag  with  me — it  was,  oddly  enough,  Dostoevski's  The 
Possessed;  and  he  permitted  me  to  write  one  letter  each 
day,  on  a  sheet  provided  for  that  purpose,  subject  to  his 
censorship;  and  to  send  out  for  my  meals  if  I  wished  it. 
I  did  wish  this  last  particularly;  and  chose  one  whom  I 
knew  in  the  town,  through  whom  I  hoped  to  smuggle 
out  letters. 

The  astonishment  of  my  warder  at  my  right  to  keep 
down  my  bed-board  gave  me  singular  pleasure.  He  was 
a  baffled  man,  and  thenceforth  he  merely  grumbled  at 
me  instead  of  shouting  at  me.  As  for  the  Acting 
Governor,  I  afterwards  became  quite  friendly  with  him, 

i58 


MY    FIRST    ARREST 


and  he  showed  me  as  much  kindliness  as  was  possible  in 
the  circumstances.  He  did  tliis  in  a  strange  way.  He 
would  enter  my  cell  and  shout  at  me  as  harshly  as  at 
any;  and  then  he  would  close  the  door,  sit  on  my  stool, 
and  in  a  quiet  friendly  manner  discuss  the  situation  in 
the  country.  My  name  was  known  to  him,  and  it 
appeared  he  had  little  love  for  his  military  superiors;  so 
that  we  spoke  as  Irishmen  together.  I  remember  him 
one  morning  bringing  me  the  daily  newspapers  contain- 
ing John  Dillon's  speech  in  the  House  of  Commons 
denouncing  the  executions  and  imprisonments.  He  was 
glad,  he  said,  that  at  least  one  man  there  had  spoken  out; 
and  he  insisted  on  reading  to  me  those  parts  of  the  speech 
that  pleased  him  most. 

§5 

Meals  and  exercise  were  the  only  alleviations  of  our 
silent  monotony  and  misery.  The  meals  were  brought 
round  by  two  prisoner-orderlies,  both  of  them  Gaelic 
League  organizers  whom  I  knew.  Of  one  of  them, 
when  he  brought  me  in  my  first  meal,  I  in  my  ignorance 
asked  for  a  knife  and  fork.  He,  in  his  week-old  experi- 
ence of  gaols,  slipped  quickly  out  into  the  passage  to 
control  his  amusement,  and  left  me  to  the  astonishment 
of  the  warder,  who  asked  me  if  I  knew  where  I  was.  So 
I  was  left  to  juggle  with  an  old  horn  spoon;  and  that 
spoon  I  have  yet,  having  succeeded  in  carrying  it  from 
place  to  place  hidden  about  my  person  as  a  memento. 

Twice  a  day  we  were  taken  out  to  exercise  in  the 
prison-yard.      The   yard   was   strewn    with   flints,    and 

159 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

surrounded  by  walls  some  twenty  feet  high.  Near  the 
walls  the  flints  were  trodden  into  a  path,  marked  on 
the  ground  in  a  large  oval,  by  many  miserable  feet.  The 
first  morning  I  saw  that  yard  there  were  already  some 
seven  or  eight  men  marching  around  in  silence  at  equal 
distances  apart.  Afterwards  I  learned  that,  the  previous 
day,  some  twenty  or  thirty  prisoners  had  been  sent  on  to 
Dublin,  and  that  the  police  had  been  watching  me  in 
Achill,  waiting  for  word  that  there  was  accommodation 
to  house  me.  Those  whom  I  saw  had  been  left.  The 
two  Gaelic  League  organizers  were  there;  there  was  an 
Excise  Officer  whom  I  knew,  whose  gait  showed  that  he 
had  not  yet  got  over  his  fury;  and  others  in  the  county, 
taken  the  police  only  knew  for  what  reasons.  One  of 
the  Gaelic  League  organizers,  when  he  saw  me,  lifted  his 
hand  in  a  Connacht  salute  and  shouted  a  greeting  in 
Irish — and  at  once  a  bellow  came  from  the  warder  for 
silence. 

The  following  day  an  elderly  man,  with  a  grey  beard 
and  erect  magisterial  manner,  made  his  appearance. 
Who  he  was,  I  do  not  know,  for  he  never  appeared  again. 
The  next  day,  among  others,  came  the  editor  (and  pro- 
prietor) of  the  Mayo  News,  who  walked  sedately  round 
the  yard  in  his  black  tail-coat  and  felt  hat  as  though  he 
were  taking  his  customary  constitutional  at  evening  on 
the  Mall  at  Westport.  The  same  day,  for  the  first  time, 
appeared  two  men  in  blue  prison  clothes,  one  a  particu- 
larly fine-looking  man,  who  bore  himself  proudly.  One 
of  the  Gaelic  League  organizers  whispered  to  me,  while 
bringing  me  my  dinner  that  day,  that  these  were  soldiers 
(a  sergeant  and  a  corporal)  from  Irish  regiments  who  had 

1 60 


MY    FIRST    ARREST 

expressed  themselves  too  forcibly  regarding  the  executions 
and  arrests.    We  never  saw  them  again. 

It  is  strange  how  quickly  prison-craft  is  acquired.  Old 
criminals,  I  afterwards  learned,  develop  it  to  such  an 
extent  that  their  communications  with  one  another,  in 
the  friendships  they  establish,  become  almost  as  complete 
as  in  ordinary  life,  despite  the  close  scrutiny  under  which 
they  are  kept  at  all  times — with  this  difference,  that  they 
cultivate  friendship  and  human  communication  as  a 
crime  against  prison  rules.  I  can  well  believe  it;  for 
here  were  we,  new  to  the  game,  and  without  any  experi- 
enced hand  among  us,  bringing  all  our  wits  to  work  in 
order  to  establish  that  communication  between  man  and 
man  without  which  life  is  as  unhealthy  as  a  stand- 
ing pool.  Our  minds  became  cunning  and  crafty; 
stealth  and  deceit  became  the  first  laws  of  our  waking; 
the  whole  being  became  watchful  and  alert  for  oppor- 
tunities caught  swiftly  as  they  passed,  while  the  outward 
manner  preserved  a  deceptive  innocence. 

The  result  was  not  conscious,  or  at  least  only  half 
conscious;  for  a  new  kind  of  reflex  seemed  to  be 
developed.  As  we  walked  round  the  yard  we  timed  our 
journey  with  the  warder,  who  walked  up  and  down  a 
small  path  by  the  prison  door.  While  he  walked  away 
from  us  towards  the  door,  we  had  arrived  at  the  far  end 
of  the  yard.  Thus  his  back  was  turned  just  as  we  reached 
the  most  favourable  part  of  our  circle,  and  by  that  time 
the  distances  between  us  had  been  reduced  as  though  quite 
naturally.  Ordinarily,  the  manoeuvre  would  have  been 
difficult  to  execute,  yet  it  was  managed  quite  simply,  and, 
as  it  were,  naturally.    Then  a  swift  conversation  would 

161  M 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

proceed,  in  voices  pitched  just  to  reach  the  man  before 
or  the  man  behind,  and  without  any  perceptible  move- 
ment of  the  lips.  By  the  time  the  warder  had  turned,  we 
were  finishing  the  bend  with  lengthening  distances  be- 
tween us,  erect,  and  with  calm  faces  forward. 

This  play  of  wit,  at  all  times,  became  no  small  part  of 
our  daily  lives;  and  the  penalties  involved  gave  spice  to 
existence.  Thus  we  came  to  know  who  we  were,  where 
we  had  been  taken,  and  we  planned  codes  for  com- 
munication from  cell  to  cell.  Indeed,  by  the  end  of  my 
first  day  I  had  a  fairly  exact  knowledge  of  my  fellow- 
prisoners,  and  of  those  who  had  been  there  before  me. 

In  this  we  were  assisted  by  one  of  the  warders.  He 
came  on  duty  on  my  second  day,  and  directly  I  heard  his 
voice  I  scanned  his  face  quickly  for  signs  of  friendship. 
He  spoke  with  a  southern  accent,  and  muffled  beneath 
his  official  brevity  a  human  quality  sounded.  He,  too, 
wore  an  official  mask  on  his  face;  but  its  expression  was 
not  sour  but  sad.  I  therefore  tried  a  venture  with  him. 
Quietly  and  without  emphasis  I  said  to  him  :  "  'Tis  queer 
criminals  you  have  these  times,  warder."  He  looked 
quickly  at  me.  Then  he  went  to  the  door,  looked  up 
and  down  the  passage,  and  returned  to  me.  "  Faith, 
you're  right,  sir,"  he  said.  "  'Tis  a  queer  sort  of  criminals 
these  times." 

It  would  be  hard  to  express  all  he  managed  to  convey 
in  those  few  words.  That  night  he  was  on  duty,  and  he 
came  into  my  cell  to  ask  me  if  there  was  anything  further 
I  wanted.  I  replied  that  there  was  not.  Then  he  put  his 
hand  in  his  pocket  and  thrust  something  into  my  hand, 
saying,  "  That'll  do  you  no  harm."     It  was  a  noggin- 

162 


MY     FIRST    ARREST 


bottle  of  whisky;  but  before  I  could  thank  him  he  was 
gone,  and  the  key  was  grating  in  the  lock. 

§6 

Let  no  one  ever  speak  to  me  again  of  prisons  as  re- 
formatories of  character.  They  are  infernal  contrivances 
for  destruction  of  character.  The  prison  system  is  one  of 
a  perfect  inhumanity;  and  as  I  sat  in  my  cell  the  first 
night,  waiting  for  darkness  to  come,  I  felt  that  system 
closing  upon  me.  The  blank,  bare  walls,  the  high,  dark 
window,  the  deathly  silence,  broken  only  by  the  shuffle 
outside  of  the  warder  as  he  went  his  rounds,  the  jingle 
of  the  keys  by  his  side,  and  the  movement  of  the  cover 
of  the  spy-hole  as  he  slid  it  aside  to  look  in  on  me — all 
these  things  were  unholy.  Add  to  them  the  instant  re- 
pression of  every  sign  of  humanity,  in  prisoner  or  in 
warder,  and  of  every  attempt  to  open  communication 
with  either,  and  the  effect  is  to  produce  a  mental  blank 
and  a  complete  absence  of  anything  of  the  rhythm  and 
colour  of  life.  One  never  sees  flowers  in  prison  (save 
for  one  exception  I  was  afterwards  to  meet,  an  exception 
rooted  in  literary  history)  and  prison-yards  are  floored, 
without  exception,  with  shards  of  flint,  or  with  some- 
thing like  coal-slack,  or  something  very  like  ashes. 
Colours  never  are  allowed — I  remember  with  what  joy 
I  later  feasted  my  eyes  on  a  blanket  provided  for  me, 
crimson  and  yellow  and  claret,  a  wonderful  vision  of 
beauty  and  joy.  Everything  is  toneless,  featureless, 
colourless,  expressionless,  noiseless  (but  for  the  bark  of 
a  warder),  void,  and  inhuman. 

163 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

In  the  twilight  that  thickened  in  my  cell,  I  felt  these 
deathly  influences  closing  on  me.  They  advanced  to- 
wards me  with  intent  to  blot  out  the  thing  that  was  I, 
the  personality  that  was  my  being,  without  which  I  was 
not.  And  I  was  afraid,  afraid  as  of  some  last  obscenity. 
Life  is  meaningless  unless  it  exist  for  the  production  and 
perfection  of  personality,  and  personality  is  meaningless 
unless  it  mean  the  utmost  differentiation  of  mind,  the 
utmost  liberty  of  thought  and  action,  the  utmost  stretch 
of  desire  and  will,  without  regard  for  interdictions  and 
frustrations,  as  the  only  conceivable  basis  for  fearless 
exchanges  in  the  commerce  of  mortality.  But  the  system 
into  which  I  was  introduced  had  engaged  itself  to  blot 
all  these  things,  and  to  treat  human  revolt  as  crime.  The 
prison  system  protects  itself  by  a  number  of  elaborate 
contrivances  against  suicide:  the  refusal  of  knife  and 
fork,  by  which  life  might  be  bled  to  death,  the  mattings 
between  the  landings  lest  life  cast  itself  to  an  end,  the 
absence  of  all  brackets  and  projections  in  cells,  from 
which  men  might  die  by  hanging.  But  suicide  is  indeed 
the  logical  perfection  of  the  system.  When  personality 
has  been  so  far  repressed  that  it  can  make  no  demonstra- 
tion of  its  existence  by  voice  or  signal;  when  personality 
looks  on  faces  as  expressionless  as  the  whitewashed  wall 
and  flint-strewn  yard;  when  the  mind  at  last  echoes  the 
blankness  it  meets  with  a  blankless  as  complete,  and 
the  outer  world  becomes  forgotten,  literally  forgotten : 
what  is  the  difference  between  this  and  the  final  quench- 
ing of  the  spark  of  life  in  a  body  whose  only  value  is  that 
a  soul  inhabits  it? 

Thought?    I  had  sometimes  in  my  folly  imagined  that 

164 


MY    FIRST    ARREST 

in  the  silence  of  a  gaol  one  could  give  oneself  to  thought. 
That  night  my  instinct  informed  me  surely  that  in  gaol 
thought  would  become  sluggish  and  finally  disappear, 
until  the  mere  effort  to  recall  faces  and  names  of  friends 
would  be  relinquished  as  too  fatiguing.  I  divined  this 
that  night.  Later  I  was  to  prove  it.  And  I  was  afraid. 
Some  of  the  others  told  me  that  they  wept  every  night; 
and  I  understood  them  perfectly.  But  that  night  I  slept 
in  my  clothes,  as  a  sign  to  myself  that,  even  though  I 
suffered,  I  would  fight  the  system  with  all  my  power  lest 
it  overcame  me.  Afterwards  I  was  glad  of  that  resolve, 
a  resolve  that  I  kept  ever  before  me. 


§7 

The  only  communication  I  was  allowed  was  the  letter 
I  had  been  promised  each  day.  A  few  days  afterwards 
the  Acting  Governor  came  to  inform  me  that  he  had 
received  instructions  from  the  military  authorities  that  I 
was  not  to  be  permitted  any  sort  of  communication  with 
the  outer  world,  by  letter  or  by  visit.  I  had  written  to 
my  wife  saying  that  my  daily  letters  would  be  a  sign  to 
her  that  I  was  safe  and  well.  I  wish  no  man  the  hours 
I  spent  that  night. 

I  thought  at  once  of  my  original  plan  to  communicate 
with  her  through  the  agency  of  the  person  who  sent  my 
meals  each  day,  and  I  succeeded  in  passing  a  letter  out 
folded  in  some  unused  bread.  My  hope  was  that  he 
would  expect  some  such  attempt,  and  would  search  the 
utensils  I  returned.    I  was  right.    The  letter  reached  its 

165 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

destination,  but  it  happened  that  the  interval  in  my  letters 
had  turned  to  good  account. 

One  morning,  when  I  wakened  at  the  usual  hour  of 
5.45,  I  was  informed  that  I  was  to  be  ready  for  removal 
in  an  hour's  time.  No  information  was  available  where 
I  was  going,  save  that  in  an  hour's  time  a  guard  of 
soldiers  would  come  for  me.  No  doubt,  said  the  Acting 
Governor  reassuringly,  I  was  to  be  taken  for  the  courts- 
martial  in  Dublin.  That,  at  such  a  time  of  terror,  meant 
anything  or  everything;  and  the  news  was  not  pleasant 
to  hear. 

The  editor  of  the  Mayo  News  and  I  were  the  only  two 
to  be  removed,  and  we  were  marched  through  the  town 
of  Castlebar,  under  a  corporal's  guard  of  eight  soldiers, 
before  its  people  were  awake.  Yet  the  news  of  our  going 
spread,  and  a  muster  gathered  about  us  at  the  station, 
and  a  few  timorous  cheers  were  raised.  I  stood  talking 
with  the  corporal  while  this  occurred.  He  told  his  men 
to  keep  a  close  guard  about  us,  but  he  refused  to  permit 
any  attempt  to  quell  the  demonstration,  sharply  checking 
a  soldier  who  made  as  though  to  do  so.  '  It's  your  own 
people,  sir,"  he  said  to  me;  "  and  it  isn't  right  for  us  to 
be  messing  about  here.  It's  a  rotten  job  for  us,  and  we 
oughtn't  to  make  it  worse  than  it  is." 

I  knew  his  type,  and  as  I  looked  at  him  I  felt  sure  I 
could  put  him  in  his  exact  place  at  home  in  England. 
He  was  a  tall,  strongly  built  man,  sallow  of  complexion, 
yet  tough  and  hardy.  He  had  a  long  head  and  (that 
morning  at  least,  but  I  should  think  always)  a  grave, 
earnest  face.  He  came  from  the  Pottery  district,  and  I 
judged   that   he   had  been   employed   in   some   clerical 

166 


MY    FIRST    ARREST 

capacity.  Afterwards  in  the  train  he  told  me  he  was 
fond  of  books  (he  was,  I  remember,  startled  to  find  that 
the  author  of  a  certain  study  of  Shakespeare  and  his 
prisoner  were  actually  the  same  person),  and  that  fact 
did  not  surprise  me,  for  I  had  already  placed  him  in  such 
a  company,  and  I  felt  that  I  could  have  told  exactly  what 
kind  of  serious,  large,  vague-thoughted,  ethical  book  (or, 
better,  work)  he  was  in  the  habit  of  studying,  and  the 
high-sounding  moralities  and  eternal  verities  he  had  been 
in  the  habit  of  discussing  with  his  friends  amid  the  drab 
sordidness  of  his  surroundings.  From  them  he  had  been 
dragged  to  Ireland;  and  he  was  distressed  and  a  little 
rueful. 

As  we  spoke  the  train  swung  round  the  bend,  and,  as 
it  drew  into  the  station,  to  my  astonishment  my  wife 
leaned  from  a  window  and  waved  to  me.  Missing  my 
daily  letter  she  had  come  to  learn  what  had  happened; 
and  had  come  by  the  very  train  by  which  I  was  to  travel. 
Instantly  I  thought  how  to  manage  that  we  should  travel 
together.  I  looked  at  my  corporal,  and  put  the  proposi- 
tion to  him.  I  had,  by  this  time,  placed  him,  and  I 
thought  I  knew  his  type:  therefore  I  put  my  plea  on 
the  highest  possible  grounds — of  humanity  and  virtue 
and  international  concord  itself — and  he  succumbed  with 
hardly  a  struggle.  The  plea  was  too  perfectly  attuned  to 
the  accustomed  atmosphere  of  many  Pleasant  Sunday 
Afternoons  for  his  new  habit  of  military  discipline  to  be 
proof  against  it.  So  my  wife  travelled  with  us  to 
Dublin. 

At  Athlone  and  at  Mullingar  crowds  surrounded  our 
carriage  and  swarmed  into  the  compartments  each  side 

167 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

of  us,  and  our  corporal  was  very  unhappy.  He  expressed 
himself  freely  about  the  position  in  which  he  found  him- 
self; without  indignation,  without  criticism  of  those  in 
authority  above  him,  yet  as  one  who  wished  to  make  it 
quite  clear  that  their  principles  of  behaviour  did  not  meet 
with  his  approval.  He  had  enlisled,  he  said,  to  fight  for 
a  small  nation  in  Belgium,  not  to  fight  againsl:  another  in 
Ireland.  He  spoke  as  though  a  grave  problem  had  been 
placed  before  him  for  decision,  a  decision,  however,  that 
did  not  involve  any  necessity  for  action  or  criticism  of  his 
superiors. 

§8 

In  Dublin  we  were  taken  to  Richmond  Barracks,  a 
place  of  mark  and  fame  for  the  years  that  were  to  follow. 
It  was  the  clearing-house  for  rebels.  From  all  gaols  and 
police  barracks  in  Ireland  batches  of  prisoners  were 
brought  to  Richmond  before  passing  to  execution,  penal 
servitude,  or  internment.  It  was  more.  It  was  the  uni- 
versity in  which  the  doctrines,  methods,  and  hopes  of 
the  men  of  Easter  Week  were  folded  into  the  life  of  men 
from  every  part  of  Ireland.  Extraordinary  to  think  with 
what  care  men  were  brought  from  all  over  the  country 
(many  of  whom  began  by  disagreeing  earnestly  with  the 
Rising)  to  receive  one  pattern  of  thought  and  to  know 
one  another  and  to  learn  of  one  another.  Yet  this  was, 
in  fad,  what  happened.  Nearly  every  man  who  took 
any  kind  of  part  in  the  events  of  the  years  to  follow 
passed  through  Richmond  Barracks,  and  there  for  the 
first   time   many   of   them   met,   leaders   and   followers 

168 


MY    FIRST    ARREST 


together.  The  exceptions  could  be  numbered  on  the 
fingers  of  two  hands. 

There  we  were  herded,  thirty  in  each  room,  on  the 
second  and  third  stories.  Troops  occupied  the  ground- 
floor,  guards  were  posted  at  the  doors  and  on  all  land- 
ings, and  the  whole  buildings  were  enclosed  with  barbed 
wire  barricades,  guarded  again  by  soldiers.  On  entering 
we  were  each  given  a  single  blanket,  and  slept  on  the 
floor.  The  nights  were  so  bitterly  cold  that  we  slept  in 
twos  together  for  warmth,  one  blanket  beneath  and  one 
above.  The  floor  was  also  our  board,  for  at  that  time  the 
rooms  held  no  furniture,  and  we  sat  on  the  floor  to  eat, 
with  our  fingers  for  service,  the  bully-beef  and  hard 
biscuits  served  out  to  us.  Afterwards,  shortly  before  I 
left  there,  benches  and  tables,  knives  and  forks,  and  extra 
blankets  were  provided  for  us;  and  as  they  came,  they 
were  received,  not  in  meek  gratitude,  but  with  ribaldry 
and  laughter. 

Nothing,  I  think,  more  surprised  our  guards  than  the 
unfailing  hilarity  of  our  company.  In  every  room  it  was 
the  same,  and  when  we  met  in  the  drill-yards  it  was  the 
same.  That  was  the  oddest  experience  of  all.  Men  had 
been  arrested  for  drilling,  yet  at  Richmond  Barracks  we 
were  led  out,  in  companies  of  fifty  and  sixty  at  a  time, 
and  drilled  under  some  of  the  best  instructors  in  the 
world.  Men  were  drilled  there  who  had  never  drilled 
before  in  their  lives,  and  had  even,  a  year  before,  mocked 
at  the  manoeuvres  of  Volunteers.  Many  of  them  after- 
wards remembered  their  tuition,  as  they  remembered  the 
company  in  which  that  tuition  had  been  received. 

Indeed,   there   was   some   cause   for   surprise   at  our 

169 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

hilarity,  though  we  ourselves  at  the  time  did  not  note  it. 
In  one  of  the  buildings,  within  sight  of  our  windows, 
courts-martial  were  sitting  daily,  and  daily  men  were 
being  taken  from  those  rooms  to  receive  long  sentences  of 
penal  servitude;  and  weekly  batches  were  taken  for  deten- 
tion in  British  gaols.  The  executions  were  over  by  the 
time  I  reached  Dublin.  The  grim  and  bitter  mood  they 
had  created  in  the  country  had  slopped  diem — it  was  the 
same  mood  that  ultimately  lifted  us  from  the  unswept 
floor  to  benches  and  tables.  Yet  it  was  from  these  same 
rooms  men  had  gone  to  meet  the  shooting-file  at  dawn. 
From  the  room  above  mine  Sean  MacDiarmada  had 
gone  to  his  death  as  knightly  as  he  had  lived  his  life. 
From  the  same  room  as  mine  Eamon  de  Valera  had  gone 
to  penal  servitude  for  life.  And  the  process  continued 
without  intermission,  until  the  mere  weight  of  numbers, 
swept  there  from  the  country  by  a  net  of  so  fine  a  mesh, 
caused  it  to  break  down  utterly.  Then  the  rest  were  sent 
to  ordinary  detention  as  the  simplest  method  of  making 
an  end  of  what  had  begun  to  wear  the  appearance  of  an 
unending  procession.  Yet,  while  I  was  at  Richmond 
Barracks  it  continued,  though  none  would  have  guessed 
at  it  who  saw  only  the  hilarity  that  was,  in  fact,  our 
best:  protection. 

I  myself  quickly  encountered  it.  On  our  entry  the 
two  of  us  were  greeted  heartily,  as  though  to  an  enter- 
tainment. We  would  not  be  permitted  to  give  an  account 
of  our  adventures  until  we  had  eaten;  and  then  our  first 
thought  was  to  hear,  rather  than  to  be  heard.  For  the  first 
time  we  came  into  touch  with  those  who  had  taken  their 
part  in  the  Rising.    Three  were  wounded,  and  lay  on  the 

170 


MY    FIRST    ARREST 

floor  covered  by  blankets  when  we  entered.  The  majority 
had  fought  through  the  week.  He  would  be  a  man  of 
little  emotion,  indeed,  who  did  not  feel  as  I  did  at  that 
moment,  with  a  touch  of  awe  and  respect  kindling  in  his 
blood. 


171 


CHAPTER    EIGHT 

THE  WHIRLWIND  CAMPAIGN,  1917-1918 

§1 

INN  FEIN,  as  a  political  party,  was  now  constituted, 
'and  the  great  October  Convention  of  191 7  had 
adopted  for  it  a  scheme  of  organization  substantially  as 
laid  before  it  by  Eamon  de  Valera,  the  new  President. 
It  is  interesting  to  notice  that  in  this  scheme  of  organiza- 
tion was  a  section  dealing  with  the  institution  of  the 
Constituent  Assembly  of  the  future,  to  which  the  name 
was  first  given  which  it  was  afterwards  to  bear — Dail 
Eireann :  The  Assembly  of  Ireland. 

During  the  course  of  the  Convention  I  had  criticized 
certain  parts  of  this  scheme  of  organization;  but  now  it 
fell  to  me,  in  the  office  to  which  I  had  been  elected,  to  be 
the  first  to  create  and  administer  it.  For  Austin  Stack, 
my  colleague  in  the  secretaryship,  was  in  gaol,  and  the 
task,  committed  to  us  jointly,  had,  of  necessity,  to  be 
undertaken  by  the  only  one  of  the  two  at  liberty.  As  I 
remember,  Austin  Stack  did  not  come  out  of  gaol  for 
another  month  or  six  weeks,  and  it  was  necessary  by  that 
time  to  have  the  scheme  in  working. 

The  form  of  organization  that  had  been  adopted  is 
worth  brief  review,  for  it  embraced  the  entire  country, 
and  entered  as  nearly,  as  any  political  organization  may, 
into  the  communal  life  of  the  people.  Rightly  to  see  this, 
a  larger  review  becomes  necessary. 

172 


THE    WHIRLWIND    CAMPAIGN,     IQI7-I918 

For  the  scheme  of  local  government  adopted  by 
England  for  Ireland  has  never  expressed  in  any  real — 
economic  or  social — sense  the  life  of  the  Irish  people. 
It  was  taken  over  from  England,  where  it  was  the  result 
of  historical  origins,  and  put  down  in  Ireland  like  a 
Procrustean  bed  into  which  the  people's  life  had  to  be 
crushed.  But,  to  change  the  figure,  in  Ireland  it  was 
not  the  fruit  of  a  tree  the  roots  of  which  were  embedded 
in,  drawing  strength  from,  the  soil  of  history.  Rather  it 
was  an  attempt  (conscious  at  first,  back  in  the  centuries, 
and  unconscious  afterwards)  to  deny  that  history,  to  cancel 
and  forget  it.  For  until  the  seventeenth  century  Ireland 
had  had  her  own  form  of  political  governance,  strong  in 
its  local  life  till  the  end,  but  at  one  time  with  that  local 
life  gathered  and  comprised  in  a  national  system;  and  it 
was  this  form  that  the  policy  of  Plantations  had  succeeded 
in  uprooting  and  destroying  in  that  century  of  violence. 

Not  completely,  however.  It  had  been  preserved  in 
the  form  of  organization  of  the  Catholic  Church,  For 
St.  Patrick,  as  great  a  statesman  as  a  churchman,  had 
modelled  his  church  organization  on  the  political — the 
social  and  economic — organization  of  the  country,  so  that 
one  fitted  precisely  with  the  other,  each  expressing 
different  parts  of  the  people's  life  in  an  identical  pattern. 
Therefore,  though  the  form  of  political  governance  was 
destroyed,  its  pattern  was  preserved  —  in  spite  of  all 
changes  and  vicissitudes  very  remarkably  preserved  —  in 
the  organization  of  the  Church  by  half-parishes,  parishes, 
and  bishoprics. 

It  was  by  this  pattern  that  Sinn  Fein  was  now 
organized.     The  larger  (what  I  may  call  the  bishopric) 

173 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

units  were  changed,  so  as  to  bring  the  organization  to  a 
head  in  the  political  constituencies,  by  which  necessity 
required  that  it  should  operate,  and  which  it  was  devised 
to  influence.  But  it  rested  on,  being  constituted  of,  the 
smaller  units.  One  Sinn  Fein  club  (or  cumainn)  was 
allowed  for  each  half-parish  area,  known  generally  as 
the  chapel  area.  That  is  not  to  say  that  each  chapel  area 
in  Ireland  had  its  separate  cumainn.  Sometimes  there 
was  but  one  cumainn  for  an  entire  parish;  and  to  the  last., 
when  in  192 1  under  the  rule  of  the  Black-and-Tans  the 
organization  broke  down,  there  were  parts  of  the  country 
where  several  parishes  united  to  form  one  cumainn.  But 
the  chapel  area  formed  the  unit,  and  not  more  than  one 
cumainn  was  allowed  in  such  an  area.  In  the  larger  towns 
and  cities,  where  a  newer  form  of  life  had  come  into  exist- 
ence, a  different  system  was  adopted,  the  ward  being 
taken  there  as  the  unit. 

The  result  is  obvious  and  plain  to  see.  When  we,  as 
secretaries,  had  to  administer  a  decision  of  the  Executive 
Committee,  we  knew  that  our  directions  began  to  operate 
either  within  an  affected  district,  or  within  a  part  of,  or 
throughout  the  entire,  country,  from  the  following  Sun- 
day. For  then  the  members  of  each  cumainn  met  at 
worship,  and  they  met  with  all  the  people  of  that  area, 
to  whom  that  decision  could  be  communicated  if  it  were 
— as  many  of  the  decisions  at  that  time  were — of  a  sort 
that  called  for  concerted  action.  And,  beginning  then 
to  operate,  it  operated  within  a  life  that  had  a  certain 
social  and  economic  cohesion,  gaining  from  that  circum- 
stance a  vigour  and  uniformity  that  were  of  the  greatest 
value. 

174 


THE    WHIRLWIND    CAMPAIGN,     I917-I918 

When  the  opposition  against  which  we  had  to  con- 
tend is  remembered,  the  importance  of  this  cannot  be 
exaggerated.  For  after  the  October  Convention  the  arm 
of  Dublin  Castle  was  Stretched  against  Sinn  Fein  every- 
where. Arrests  and  proclamations  and  restless  police 
activity  attempted  to  slop  the  increase  of  the  organization. 
But  these  things  were  exerted  from  outside  on  the  life  of 
the  people,  whereas  we  were  working  from  within  through 
the  life  of  the  people;  and  the  very  oppugnancy  of  method 
gave  Sinn  Fein  the  strength  of  inwardness  and  subdety, 
and  increased  that  strength  the  more  Sinn  Fein  was 
opposed. 

§2 

When  once  this  organization  had  been  created,  pruned, 
and  made  flexible  and  efficient,  the  Executive  Committee 
elected  by  the  October  Convention  became  in  effect  en- 
dowed with  the  powers  of  a  government.  That  is  im- 
portant to  note;  for  now,  for  the  first  time,  a  conscious 
effort  is  seen  at  work  to  undiread  the  web  of  British 
Government  in  Ireland  and  to  replace  that  web  by 
another  woven  at  home.  This  policy  did  not  achieve 
(and  under  the  circumstances  could  not  have  achieved) 
its  perfect  expression  until,  after  1918,  there  was  an 
elected  assembly  to  appoint  a  government;  but  now  the 
political  party  of  Sinn  Fein  is  seen  to  shape  itself  toward 
that  national  non-party  ideal.  And  the  measured  success 
of  the  policy  depended  partly  on  the  composite  character 
of  the  party,  pardy  on  the  stirring  chance  of  the  times, 
when  danger  compelled  the  suppression  of  disagreement, 
and  partly  on  the  efficiency  of  the  organization. 

175 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

It  was  as  a  consequence  of  this  policy  that  the  new 
Committee  was  organized  as  it  was.  For  the  leading 
members  of  it  had  what  in  State  affairs  would  be  called 
Portfolios  divided  among  them.  Cathal  Brugha,  for 
example,  took  industries  and  commerce,  Frank  Lawless 
took  agriculture,  and  so  on.  The  intention  in  this  was 
excellent,  but  it  inevitably  fell  into  failure,  for  it  extended 
beyond  the  time  and  powers  available.  Each  of  these 
two  men,  for  instance,  was  too  busy  with  his  own  occupa- 
tion to  attend  to  the  work  assigned  to  him;  and  their 
work,  therefore,  devolved  on  the  secretaries  so  far  as  it 
was  possible  of  accomplishment.  It  was  not  work,  how- 
ever, that  in  the  nature  of  things  could  be  accomplished 
with  any  success  by  a  political  party;  and  a  political  party, 
especially  a  new  party,  could  not  afford  to  undertake 
work  at  which  it  could  not  succeed. 

One  department,  it  is  true,  was  a  success.  For  at  that 
time,  it  will  be  remembered,  German  submarines  were 
busy  making  a  network  beneath  the  seas  for  the  snaring 
of  ships,  and  had  succeeded  in  raising  the  peril  of  a 
shortage  of  food  in  England.  A  Food  Controller  had 
therefore  been  appointed  there,  and  as  Ireland  has  for 
many  years  been  the  chief  supplier  of  foodstuffs  to 
England,  the  British  administration  in  Ireland  was 
naturally  used  to  cause  those  supplies  to  be  increased. 
The  consequence  was  that  the  same  peril  seemed  likely 
to  be  raised  in  Ireland,  a  food-producing  country,  as 
already  had  been  raised  in  England,  a  manufacturing 
country. 

The  fear  was  genuine,  and  was  widely  held.  It  also 
created  an  opportunity  of  crossing  swords  with  the  British 

176 


THE    WHIRLWIND    CAMPAIGN,     I917-I918 

Government  on  the  splendid  ground  of  defending  our 
own  people.  The  policy  of  politics  and  the  policy  of 
creating  a  Home  Government  were,  accordingly,  most 
happily  matched  when  Diarmuid  Lynch  was  appointed 
Food  Controller  of  the  Sinn  Fein  Committee.  His  con- 
duct: of  that  Department  was  bold  and  vigorous,  and  led 
to  an  incident  that  aroused  almost  worldwide  interest. 

First  of  all  a  meeting  was  convened  in  the  Mansion 
House  to  call  attention  to  the  peril.  Then  the  country 
was  circularized  with  a  view  to  making  a  food  census; 
and  the  farmers  helped  us  so  well  that  we  found  that  we 
had  not  the  statistical  start  to  tabulate  the  material  we 
had  received.  Finally,  it  was  decided  to  take  action. 
So,  on  the  evening  of  the  22nd  of  February,  191 8, 
Diarmuid  Lynch  and  a  picked  gang  waylaid  a  drove  of 
pigs  being  driven  to  the  quays,  seized  them,  killed  them 
then  and  there  under  experienced  supervision,  and  sold 
them  to  an  Irish  manufacturer  for  consumption  in  Ireland. 

The  noise  this  exploit  made  was  astonishing.  It  put 
the  European  War  in  the  shade,  for  both  English  and 
Irish  newspapers  made  it  the  event  of  the  hour.  In 
Ireland  the  effect  was  permanent.  For  the  event  indi- 
cated at  once  a  care  for  the  home  people  and  a  deliberate, 
calculated  defiance  of  British  administration.  So  strong 
was  the  feeling  in  the  country  that,  under  this  Depart- 
ment, local  Sinn  Fein  markets  were  created  for  the  sale 
of  Irish  foodstuffs  to  the  poor  at  reasonable  prices,  and 
farmers  sent  dieir  goods  to  these  markets,  protesting  that 
they  were  Irishmen  first  and  traders  afterwards. 

The  success  of  this  Department  covered  the  inevitable 
failure  of  the  others.    For,  after  all,  the  chief  task  before 

177  N 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

Sinn  Fein  was  political,  and  not  until  that  task  had  fairly 
been  accomplished  could  a  National  Government  come 
into  existence  to  which  such  functions  could  be  assigned. 

Indeed,  there  was  no  time  for  other  work.  I  doubt  if 
a  political  campaign  of  such  energy  and  fury  has  ever 
been  seen  in  any  country.  At  the  time  it  was  often 
spoken  of  as  "the  whirlwind  campaign";  and  the  title 
was  just,  save  that  it  is  not  often  that  whirlwinds  last  so 
long.  Every  week-end  was  given  up  to  meetings,  and  a 
special  sub-committee  sat  to  control  these  as  various 
centres  called  for  them.  Some  twenty  or  thirty  meet- 
ings would  be  held  each  Saturday  and  Sunday.  To 
these  must  be  added  special  meetings  held  on  all  holidays 
of  obligation  and  during  the  course  of  the  week.  And 
this  was  continued  week  after  week,  and  month  after 
month;  and  few  of  us  knew  what  it  was  to  enjoy  a  night 
of  leisure. 

In  the  midst  of  this  whirlwind  that  raged  in  every 
county,  and  called  on  us  all  to  spend  much  of  our 
time  travelling,  the  conduct:,  creation,  and  administration 
of  the  organization  had  to  be  continued.  And  it  is  time 
to  state  clearly  what  this  meant.  For  at  the  time  it  was 
freely  asserted  by  our  political  opponents  that,  however 
our  activity  might  wear  the  fashion  of  service,  the  service 
was  profitable  enough,  for  Sinn  Fein  was  a  large  and, 
therefore,  a  wealthy  party.  Such  stones,  to  be  sure,  are 
always  flung  in  the  like  circumstances,  and  we  made 
neither  complaint  nor  answer.  Yet  (if  it  be  to  the  credit 
of  that  service)  let  it  now  be  asserted  that  all  the  work, 
save  that  of  the  permanent  start,  was  given  freely.  Busi- 
ness men   travelled    every   week-end,   and   travelled   all 

178 


THE    WHIRLWIND    CAMPAIGN,     I917-I918 

Sunday  night,  after  a  heavy  day  of  meetings,  for  the 
new  week's  work  on  Monday  morning,  and  did  that  week 
after  week  for  months,  freely  in  the  service  of  their  country. 
However,  I  am  telling  the  history  of  these  times  as 
they  gathered  about  the  experience  of  an  individual — 
looking  at  events  framed  through  the  windows  of  an 
actual  house.  Let  me,  then,  relate  my  own  experience 
in  this  matter,  for  it  proved  that  there  were  others  like 
it.  The  Secretaryship  to  which  my  colleague  and  I  had 
been  elected  was  an  honorary  post,  as  were  all  positions 
on  the  Officer  Board.  The  scheme  of  organization 
strictly  prohibited  payment  for  such  services.  As  certain 
of  us,  from  de  Valera  down,  were  toiling  day  and  night 
at  the  work  entrusted  to  us,  the  consequence  can  be 
imagined.  For  myself,  for  three  months  my  wife  and 
I  lived  on  a  present  of  potatoes  a  friend  had  opportunely 
sent  from  the  country.  It  was  Arthur  Griffith,  whose 
experienced  eye  (had  he  not  lived  thus  for  many  a  year 
in  the  nation's  service?)  saw  what  was  happening  to 
those  on  whom  the  burden  of  the  work  naturally  fell, 
who  caused  the  creation  of  a  special  Sustentation  Fund, 
raised  outside  the  funds  of  the  organization,  to  allay 
anxiety  by  meeting  the  mere  requirements  of  livelihood, 
in  order  that  the  work  might  continue.  And  it  was  in 
this  spirit  that  the  war  was  fought. 


§3 

That  war,  now,  turned  to  fierceness.  The  October 
Convention  not  having  split  the  new  movement,  Dublin 
Castle  recognized  that  it  had  mis-stepped  in  permitting 

179 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

it  to  have  been  held.  Therefore,  in  an  endeavour  to 
recover  lost,  ground,  a  heavy  assault  was  opened  on  every 
side  and  an  extraordinary  battle  of  wits  was  begun.  It 
was  a  case  of  interdictions  and  force  on  one  side,  and 
wit  at  full  race  on  the  other;  and  as  wit  nearly  always 
won,  force  was  damaged  severely  in  that  dignity  without 
which  it  is  merely  massive  and  ridiculous. 

Indeed,  Dublin  Castle  acted  promptly  enough.  De 
Valera,  as  the  new  President,  was  announced  to  speak  at 
Newbridge,  beside  the  Curragh  Camp,  on  the  4th  of 
November.  The  meeting  was  proclaimed  and  strong 
forces  were  moved  into  the  town  to  make  the  proclama- 
tion good.  On  our  side  nothing  was  said,  but  messengers 
were  at  once  sent  down  to  the  county  to  alter  the 
arrangements.  On  the  appointed  day  the  meeting  was 
held  in  the  neighbouring  town  of  Athy,  where  nothing 
had  been  proclaimed,  before  the  same  audience.  And 
Ireland  laughed. 

Learning  from  that  error,  future  proclamations  ex- 
tended to  a  whole  area,  sometimes  to  an  entire  county. 
Then  the  sight  was  seen  of  a  number  of  decoy  meetings, 
which  distracted  the  police  and  broke  their  numbers, 
while  the  real  meeting  was  held  without  interruption 
in  a  quiet  field  or  by  quiet  cross-roads.  For  it  was  then 
that  Ireland  put  to  use  those  secrets  which  a  county  keeps 
that  were  afterwards  to  prove  so  valuable.  Though  every 
one  knew  where  the  real  meeting  was  to  be  held,  the 
police  never  discovered;  and  the  whole  countryside, 
opponents  and  supporters  alike,  joined  in  the  fun,  while 
Ireland  laughed. 

The  fun,  however,  was  dangerous  enough,  for  it  was 

180 


THE    WHIRLWIND    CAMPAIGN,     I917-I918 

conducted  during  the  early  weeks  of  this  new  campaign 
under  the  shadow  of  tragedy.  In  the  middle  of  Sep- 
tember Sinn  Fein  prisoners  in  Mount  joy  Gaol  had  gone 
on  hunger-strike  to  recover  the  recognition  as  prisoners 
of  war  which,  accorded  earlier,  had  now,  in  the  shifting 
and  changings  of  policy,  been  denied.  Forcible  feeding 
had  followed.  As  a  result,  Tom  Ashe  had  died.  His 
death  had  created  an  extraordinary  shock,  so  horrible  was 
the  thought  of  a  man  being  forcibly  held  in  a  chair  and 
done,  as  it  happened,  to  death.  Deputations  to  his 
funeral  came  from  every  part  of  Ireland,  and  in  many 
of  the  leading  towns  simultaneous  funeral  processions 
were  held.  And  thus,  by  so  calamitous  a  price,  the 
object:  of  the  hunger-strike  was  gained  by  the  mediation 
of  the  Lord  Mayor  of  Dublin,  and  written  into  a  compact. 
But  when  the  new  campaign  was  opened  the  compact 
was  thrown  aside,  with  the  result  that  the  prisoners  (re- 
moved now  to  Dundalk  Gaol)  had  promptly  gone  on 
hunger-strike  again. 

During  these  weeks  it  looked  as  if  the  new  strike 
(which  was  afterwards  compromised  on  each  side)  must 
end  in  death,  for  Dublin  Castle  had  declared  that  its 
resolve  had  been  taken,  and  there  lay  the  tragedy  with 
which  our  comedy  of  wits  was  loaded.  Ireland  might 
laugh  to  see  authority  baffled,  but  those  who  were  arrested 
went  to  join  their  comrades  in  gaol,  and  there,  without 
further  question,  they  went  on  hunger-strike  too.  Yet 
week  by  week  men  were  arrested,  and  week  by  week 
men  went  to  the  meetings  to  which  they  were  sent;  and 
I  do  not  remember  a  single  meeting  advertised  to  be  held 
that  failed  to  be  held. 

181 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

The  procedure  adopted  in  these  arrests  added  to  the 
danger.  For  this  was  the  time  of  what  became  known 
as  "  Mental  Notes."  The  Defence  of  the  Realm  Regula- 
tions were  elastic  enough  to  cover  almost  any  form  of 
words  that  could  be  spoken  on  a  platform,  but  that 
speakers  had  grown  practised  in  deft  and  delicate 
allusions  and  audiences  had  learned  to  lift  a  hint  as  high 
as  a  hillside.  It  went  hard  with  a  "peeler,"  too,  who 
was  seen  writing  in  a  notebook  at  a  meeting.  There- 
fore the  practice  grew  of  writing  in  the  notebook  after 
the  meeting — an  hour  later,  maybe  a  week  later,  perhaps 
only  when  the  indictment  was  drawn  on  other  grounds. 
These  were  known  as  "  Mental  Notes,"  openly  confessed 
as  such,  and  accepted  as  evidence.  Many  of  them  were 
plain  fictions,  and  some  were  monstrous  on  the  face  of 
them.  Tom  Ashe,  for  example,  was  charged  with  words 
which  he  could  not  have  used.  We  knew  what  he  did 
say,  and  his  words  expressed  the  thought  of  a  man  of 
blunt  and  straightforward  vigour.  No  doubt  the  Realm 
would  have  been  deeply  aggrieved  by  them,  but  the 
words  on  which  he  was  charged  (going  thereby  after- 
wards to  his  death)  were  not  those.  And  this  method 
of  "  Mental  Notes  "  left  speakers  at  the  mercy  of  police- 
men of  luxuriant  imagination  eager  for  promotion. 
What  use  to  practice  allusion  when  invention  could 
supply  the  official  need? 

However,  here,  too,  wit  found  an  escape  from  the  toils 
that  snared  even  the  wary.  I  remember  one  speaker  who 
began  to  speak  by  saying,  with  portentous  solemnity,  that 
he  did  not  propose  to  utter  a  word  that  would  offend  the 
Realm  or  endanger  its  security.     But,  unfortunately,  it 

182 


THE    WHIRLWIND    CAMPAIGN,     I917-I918 

was  not  easy  to  know  in  what  words  such  offence  or 
danger  consisted.  The  best  audiorities,  and  even  police- 
men in  the  making  of  their  "  Mental  Notes,"  differed 
widely.  He  therefore  asked  the  policemen  who  were 
present  to  assist  him.  If  any  of  them  thought  him  about 
to  say  something  deserving  of  a  "  Mental  Note,"  he 
would  request  him  at  once  to  blow  his  whistle;  and  lest 
there  should  be  a  doubt  as  to  hearing,  he  would  ask  all 
the  others  to  blow  their  whistles,  too.  When  the  whistles 
sounded  he  wouid  withdraw  what  he  had  said,  would 
refrain  from  what  he  was  about  to  say,  and  would  turn 
to  other  more  proper  fields.  But  so  long  as  no  whistles 
were  heard  he  would  assume  he  had  the  consent  of  the 
police  in  all  that  he  said. 

Having  opened  thus  he  broke  into  the  wildest  sedi- 
tion, stopping  at  frequent  intervals  to  ask  if  that  were  a 
whistle  he  had  heard.  The  meeting  became  like  one 
broad  smile;  and  the  police,  knowing  that  they  were 
being  made  fools  of,  but  not  knowing  how  to  remedy 
their  folly,  disappeared,  till  there  was  not  one  of  them 
left  to  make  a  Mental  Note. 


§4 

In  this  way  Sinn  Fein  was  strengthened  and  extended 
as  1917  closed  and  191 8  opened.  It  worked  with  the 
people,  and  the  people  worked  with  it;  and  there  is  no 
doubt  that  at  the  end  of  the  latter  year  it  had  become  the 
national  organization.  Cumainn  existed  in  almost  every 
chapel  area;  and  I  do  not  believe  there  could  have  been 
many  who  had  not  been  present  at  the  hundreds  of  meet- 

183 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

ings  that  had  been  held  all  over  the  country,  familiar  with 
the  personalities  of  its  public  figures,  conspirators  with 
them  while  outwitting  and  defying  the  proclamations  by 
which  its  activities  were  sought  to  be  confined.  Although 
the  public  representation  was  still  held  by  the  Parlia- 
mentary Party,  Sinn  Fein  was  the  real  power  in  Ireland; 
and  it  is  difficult  now  to  realize  that  that  change  had 
been  wrought  within  the  compass  of  one  year. 

Early  in  the  new  year  an  event  occurred  to  prove  die 
reality  and  quality  of  that  power.  Indeed,  no  harder  test 
could  have  been  put  to  any  political  party  in  Ireland.  For 
it  has  been  the  destiny  of  every  Irish  political  party  sooner 
or  later  to  have  become  engulfed  in,  or  to  have  turned  for 
dependence  on,  agrarian  unrest.  Elsewhere  I  have  dealt 
with  the  causes  for  this;  and  it  is  only  necessary  now  to 
say  that  this  destiny  has  its  origin  in  history,  and  that  it 
is  therefore  inevitable,  and,  therefore,  beyond  complaint. 
For  political  independence  in  Ireland  was  never  over- 
thrown until  in  the  seventeenth  century  the  land  was 
confiscated  and  the  people  uprooted  from  the  ownership 
of  the  soil;  and  consequently  the  effort  to  restore  the  one 
has  always  been  accomplished  by  an  effort  to  restore  the 
other,  agrarian  organizations  becoming  political,  and 
political  organizations  becoming  agrarian. 

To  this  general  cause  a  particular  must  be  added.  It 
also  has  its  origin  in  history.  For  the  greatest  economic 
calamity  of  the  past  (which  it  will  take  many  years  and 
the  wisest  vision  in  the  Free  State  to  solve)  was  what  is 
historically  known  as  'To  Hell  or  Connacht,"  when 
Cromwell  endeavoured  to  cram  the  population  of 
Ireland  into  the  poor  lands  west  of  the  Shannon  in 

184 


THE    WHIRLWIND    CAMPAIGN,     I917-I918 

order  to  distribute  the  reft  of  the  land  among  his  soldiers. 
The  result  can  be  seen  to-day.  West,  of  the  Shannon 
occur  what  are  spoken  of  as  "  The  Congested  Districts," 
so  called  because  the  average  holding  of  land  there  is  in- 
sufficient to  furnish  the  livelihood  of  a  family.  But 
immediately  east  of  these  Congested  Districts  lies  a  belt 
of  rich  land,  for  the  most  part  untenanted  and  given  over 
to  the  pasture  of  cattle.  Every  spring,  therefore,  as  the 
families  lying  on  the  fringe  of  this  belt  dig  their  land  for 
sowing,  and  survey  its  insufficiency,  anger  (truly  an 
historic  anger)  works  like  a  ferment  in  their  blood,  with 
the  result  that  every  spring  lands  are  seized — demesne 
lands  within  that  territory  and  ranch-land  lying  on  the 
border  of  that  territory.  It  is  easy  to  censure  such 
"  agrarian  outrages."  It  is  better  to  understand  their 
causes.  For  so  always  will  compression,  surrounded  by 
a  vacuum,  bring  forth  explosions  when  time  and  occasion 
serve. 

In  this  year,  1918,  however,  there  was  much  talk  of  a 
shortage  of  food,  and  violent  action,  indeed,  had  just 
been  taken  to  keep  the  food  grown  in  Ireland  for  the 
Irish  people.  It  did  not,  therefore,  need  much  vision  to 
prophesy  an  especially  bitter  outbreak  of  agrarian  violence. 
And  when  it  came,  Sinn  Fein  was  faced  by  an  ancient, 
but  at  the  moment  particularly  inconvenient,  peril.  For 
that  spring  came  news  from  every  quarter  of  the  west  of 
seizures  of  lands,  generally  in  the  name  of  Sinn  Fein. 
Yet  if  Sinn  Fein  once  slipped  into  agrarian  revolution  its 
national  claim  for  independence  would  have  been  lost 
sight  of,  its  hope  for  the  Peace  Conference  undone,  and 
its  larger  plans  for  the  political  creation  of  an  independent 

185 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

State  through  the  formation  of  a  Constituent  Assembly 
scattered  past  recovery. 

I  need  not  go  into  detail  as  to  the  method  by  which 
the  danger  was  controlled.  Enough  to  say  that  orders 
were  issued  that  no  tenanted  land,  and  no  untenanted 
land  on  which  the  legislative  requirement  of  15  per  cent, 
of  tillage  had  been  observed,  should  be  seized.  If  such 
land  had  been  seized,  it  was  at  once  to  be  restored.  As  to 
untenanted  land,  where  less  than  15  per  cent,  was  under 
tillage,  this  could  not  be  seized  until  the  Local  Con- 
stituency Executive  of  Sinn  Fein  had  given  its  sanction 
in  each  case;  and  in  such  cases  Sinn  Fein  endeavoured  to 
arrange  fair  terms  of  sale — which,  indeed,  the  people 
were  willing  to  pay. 

In  issuing  these  decrees,  Sinn  Fein,  it  will  be  seen,  was 
acting  as  a  Government;  and  in  doing  so  it  had  the  con- 
sent and  support  of  all  classes.  There  were  internal  diffi- 
culties; for  many,  including  two  members  of  the  Officer 
Board,  desired  that  the  political  work  should  be  accom- 
panied by  agrarian  disturbance.  Indeed,  the  Ard-Chom- 
hairle  (the  High  Council)  of  Sinn  Fein  was  especially 
convened  to  deal  with  the  matter.  This  Council  was 
comprised  of  one  specially  appointed  member  from  each 
Constituency  Executive.  It  met  and  discussed,  in  effect, 
as  a  Parliament,  and  supported  the  action  that  had  been 
taken  by  the  Central  Executive.  The  result  was  that  within 
three  weeks  order  was  restored;  and  that  result  is  remark- 
able (though  none  since  has  referred  to  it),  testifying  to  the 
popular  strength  of  the  organization,  for  nothing  like  it  had 
ever  been  wrought  in  Ireland  before,  where  agrarian  revolu- 
tion and  politics  have  gone  through  history  hand  in  hand. 

186 


THE    WHIRLWIND    CAMPAIGN,     I917-I918 

§5 

This  result  is  important  to  note  because  of  what 
accompanied  it.  Sinn  Fein  depended,  as  I  have  said,  on 
popular  strength.  It  is  true  that  the  execution  of  these 
decisions  was  assisted  by  the  independent  organization  of 
the  Volunteers,  working  side  by  side  with  Sinn  Fein;  but 
without  the  prestige  of  the  party,  creating  popular  con- 
sent, nothing  could  have  been  done.  Yet  during  these 
early  months  of  the  year  it  was  claimed  that  Sinn  Fein 
was  already  a  waning  force. 

I  have  said  that  Fortune  had  been  kind  to  Sinn  Fein 
in  the  matter  of  by-elections.  But  Fortune  is  seldom 
wholly  kind  to  party  or  to  person.  It  is  trite  to  say  that 
she  is  fickle.  Rather,  she  is  quaintly  impartial,  snaring 
with  a  smile  to  deliver  a  lusty  knock.  For  now  two  other 
by-elections  came  in  which  Sinn  Fein  was  destined  to  be 
worsted — destined,  in  strict  terms,  for  they  occurred  in 
two  constituencies  of  which  we  had  no  hope  from  the 
outset. 

The  first  was  in  South  Armagh  in  the  north.  There 
the  Ribbonmen  of  the  nineteenth  century  had  been 
strongest,  and  of  them  the  Ancient  Order  of  Hibernians 
(a  sectarian  organization,  whose  leader  was  Joseph  Devlin) 
was  the  lineal  descendant.  There,  too,  were  enough 
Orangemen  to  ensure  the  defeat  of  Sinn  Fein  if  they 
were  required;  for  the  Orangemen  hated  Sinn  Fein,  a 
strictly  non-sectarian  organization,  more  than  they  hated 
the  Hibernians,  a  strictly  sectarian  organization.  In  spite 
of  the  propaganda  of  the  time,  let  me  say  frankly  they 

187 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

were  not  required;  but  it  was  their  votes  which  made  the 
defeat  of  Sinn  Fein  as  substantial  as  it  was  when  it  was 
announced  on  the  second  day  of  February. 

Yet  during  that  election  an  event  occurred,  very 
strange,  yet  very  characteristic  of  the  north-east  of 
Ireland.  For  during  the  election  I,  a  Protestant,  was 
invited  to  meet  the  leaders  of  the  Orangemen  at  the 
Armagh  City  Club.  My  prompt  acceptance  of  the  invita- 
tion horrified  some  of  my  Nationalist  colleagues;  yet  I 
was  hospitably  received,  was  assured  that  I  spoke  as  an 
Irishman  among  Irishmen,  and  till  day  dawned  we  dis- 
cussed common  national  affairs  with  a  common  under- 
standing, parting  then  to  fight  with  a  vigour  on  opposite 
sides,  the  greatness  of  which  was  only  matched  by  the 
greatness  of  the  hospitality  and  comradeship  with  which 
I  had  been  received.  Little  wonder  that  other  peoples 
cannot  understand  our  national  disagreements,  seeing 
they  are  rooted  in  an  understanding  that  can  be  so  com- 
plete. Yet  so  it  is;  and  of  them  is  the  augury  of  the 
future. 

The  second  election  was  caused  by  the  death  of  John 
Redmond,  who  (it  is  said,  and  the  tragic  story  has  been 
adequately  told  elsewhere  by  those  competent  to  tell  it), 
deserted  by  his  friends  at  a  critical  issue  of  the  "  Lloyd 
George  Convention,"  had  left  that  body  on  the  15th  of 
January,  stricken  by  illness,  to  die  on  the  6th  of  March. 
Thus  a  by-election  was  caused  in  Waterford  City,  and 
John  Redmond's  son,  Major  William  Redmond,  left  his 
own  constituency  in  East  Tyrone  to  fight  the  battle  of  his 
father's  memory.  The  constituency  was  bad  for  us,  and 
the  nature  of  the  contest  worse.    Long  consultations  we 

188 


THE    WHIRLWIND    CAMPAIGN,     I917-I918 

had  whether  the  contest  should  be  accepted,  for  defeat 
was  only  too  certain.  In  the  end  it  was  decided  that, 
since  to  turn  away  was  worse  than  to  be  defeated,  Sinn 
Fein  should  fight  every  election  as  it  came,  win  or  lose. 

So  we  fought,  and  so  we  lost.  We  lost  also  in  East 
Tyrone,  where  the  total  Nationalist  vote  as  against  the 
Orange  vote  balanced  always  within  a  dozen  votes,  and 
where  Sinn  Fein  had  split  the  Nationalist  vote.  So,  there- 
fore, great  was  the  outcry  that  Sinn  Fein  was  a  waning 
force  during  the  very  months  when  it  had  set  itself  to  as 
stark  a  test  of  its  authority  as  political  party  in  Ireland  had 
ever  faced. 

Yet,  before  the  East  Tyrone  election  was  over,  another 
vacancy  occurred  in  King's  County  (now  Leix),  and  both 
sides  were  hard  at  the  campaign  there  when  news  came 
that  startled  the  country,  and  in  a  few  weeks  transformed 
the  whole  situation. 

§6 

It  was  now  April;  and  during  the  past  seven  months, 
while  we  in  Sinn  Fein  had  all  been  busy  shepherding  the 
nation  into  the  fold  of  the  party,  the  Irish  Convention 
(known  mockingly  in  Ireland  as  the  Lloyd  George  Con- 
vention) had  continued  in  session,  unminded  of  the 
people.  These  sessions  had  yielded  no  event  that  could 
attract  the  people,  whereas  every  meeting  held  by  Sinn 
Fein  was  a  challenge  against  authority.  Now,  however, 
that  Sinn  Fein  seemed,  as  our  opponents  claimed,  to  be 
weakening  in  popular  strength,  it  was  decided  to  bring 
the  Convention  to  an  end  and  to  open  a  new  policy. 

From  the  point  of  view  of  Sinn  Fein  the  past  months 

189 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

had  left  little  of  personal  event  to  record,  for  the  whirl- 
wind campaign  and  the  accompanying  organization 
absorbed  all  our  time.  Those  of  us,  headed  by  Eamon 
de  Valera,  on  whom  the  work  mainly  fell,  had  each  his 
task;  and  the  work  went  forward  with  great  speed  and 
efficiency  and  an  excellent  sense  of  comradeship.  We 
were  all  full  of  hope,  not  much  disturbed  by  our  recent 
defeats,  though  we  did  not  minimize  the  effect  they  might 
have  on  the  public  mind.  The  intensity  of  our  work, 
and  the  speed  at  which  we  all  lived,  made  us  less  like 
human  beings,  with  social  and  personal  relations  to  one 
another,  than  like  parts  of  a  machine,  which  it  was 
essential  to  bring  to  the  utmost  efficiency.  Our  service 
and  our  hope,  therefore,  had  put  out  of  sight,  had  made 
to  seem  utterly  unreal,  the  rivalries  of  ideals  and 
contests  of  personalities  that  had  preceded  the  October 
Convention. 

The  European  War,  too,  seemed  remote  and  unreal. 
Yet  it  was  now  to  strike  across  our  scene  and  change  the 
whole  course  of  the  future.  For  it  was  at  this  moment 
that  the  German  armies  opened  their  great  offensive  to- 
wards Amiens;  and  faced  by  a  peril  that  struck  at  her 
existence,  the  cry  went  up  from  England  for  more  men. 
Inevitable  that  eyes  should  be  turned  to  Ireland.  Inevit- 
able that  the  demand  would  be  made  that  conscription 
should  be  applied  there  on  the  same  terms  as  in  England. 
During  the  Waterford  election,  indeed,  we  had  claimed 
that  the  return  of  Captain  Redmond  would  bring  the 
application  of  conscription  to  Ireland.  Yet  there  was  a 
difficulty  in  the  path,  for  it  was  obviously  impolitic  to 
charge  conscription  on  a  nation  that  was  denied  the  self- 

190 


THE     WHIRLWIND    CAMPAIGN,     I917-I918 

government  it  claimed,  and  which  the  Allies  claimed  to 
ensure  for  all  nations.  The  conclusion  of  the  Conven- 
tion seemed  to  indicate  a  solution  of  this  difficulty. 

The  three  events  seemed,  therefore,  to  be  precisely 
fitted  together.  For,  first,  it  was  alleged  that  Sinn  Fein 
was  weakening;  second,  the  Convention  was  bringing  its 
long  labour  to  an  end;  and  third,  the  application  of  con- 
scription to  Ireland  was  loudly  demanded  everywhere  in 
England.  These  things  seemed  to  be  in  a  happy  con- 
junction. Consequently  the  Convention  was  hurried  on 
to  a  conclusion,  with  a  view  to  framing  a  measure  of  self- 
government  from  its  findings,  in  order  thus  to  justify 
the  application  of  conscription.  And  on  the  9th  of  April 
the  new  policy  was  announced  by  Mr.  Lloyd  George 
in  the  British  House  of  Commons.  It  is  true  he  said  that 
the  two  questions  "  do  not  stand  together,  each  must  be 
taken  on  its  merits."  But  no  one  in  Ireland  was  misled. 
Everyone  knew  what  was  meant;  and  we  in  Sinn  Fein 
met  in  long  counsels  to  decide  how  to  meet  this  new 
peril,  for  which  all  our  work  now  seemed  to  have  been 
but  a  preparation. 

§7 

I  will  not  speak  of  the  Convention's  reports.  We  had 
had  our  own  sources  of  information,  and  we  knew  all 
that  had  happened  in  the  Convention  behind  closed 
doors.  But  those  reports  were  dead  from  the  moment  of 
their  announcement.  Conscription  not  merely  eclipsed 
them,  but  slew  them  outright.  Had  there  been  any  doubt 
before  that  Sinn  Fein  had  become  the  national  organiza- 
tion, that  doubt  was  now  removed.     For  everyone — in- 

191 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

eluding  those  who  had  loved  us  little,  but  who  loved  con- 
scription less — looked  to  the  militant  party  to  rescue 
them,  and  from  every  part  of  the  country  news  came  of 
new  members  joining  Sinn  Fein  cumainn  in  large 
numbers.  And  the  first.,  and  immediate,  result  was  that 
no  candidate  appeared  in  opposition  to  ours  in  the  King's 
County  election.  Dr.  Patrick  McCartan,  who  had  gone 
to  America  to  represent  Sinn  Fein  there,  was  returned  un- 
opposed— the  first  of  Sinn  Fein's  unopposed  elections. 

For  a  while,  however,  it  seemed  that  the  very  existence 
of  Sinn  Fein,  with  its  purposes,  its  ideals,  and  its  separate 
organization,  was  imperilled.  For  at  a  special  meeting  of 
the  Dublin  Corporation,  which  had  been  called  to  protest 
that  Ireland  would  not  accept  conscription,  to  however 
ample  a  political  settlement  it  was  attached,  someone 
moved  further  that  the  Lord  Mayor  invite  John  Dillon 
and  Joseph  Devlin,  as  representing  the  Irish  Parliamentary 
Party,  Eamon  de  Valera  and  Arthur  Griffith  as  represent- 
ing Sinn  Fein,  and  representatives  of  the  Trades  Union 
Congress  to  meet  him  in  conference,  in  order  to  give 
united  opposition  to  conscription  and  to  make  and  seal 
an  All-Ireland  Convention.  The  motion  so  amended  was 
passed;  and  subsequently  the  Lord  Mayor,  in  sending  out 
his  invitations,  included  William  O'Brien  and  T.  M. 
Healy  of  the  Parliamentary  Minority  Party. 

When  the  invitation  came  to  the  two  leaders  of  Sinn 
Fein,  shrewd  were  the  glances  cast  at  it,  and  long  the 
discussions  of  its  worth.  At  the  time,  and  since,  what  has 
become  known  as  the  Mansion  House  Conference  was, 
and  has  been,  regarded  as  a  cunning  Sinn  Fein  device  to 
win  back  to  favour.    Little  they  knew,  who  thus  spoke  of 

192 


THE    WHIRLWIND    CAMPAIGN,     I917-I918 

it,  what  opposition  it  awoke.  From  the  first  Eamon  de 
Valera  was  in  favour  of  acceptance ;  and  he  was  supported 
by  Arthur  Griffith,  who  said  truly  that,  wise  or  unwise, 
the  wish  of  the  people  left  no  alternative.  But  it  took  the 
united  effort  of  these  two  men  to  carry  the  proposal  with 
the  Executive  Committee. 

It  was  urged  that  Sinn  Fein  did  not  object  to  this  one 
isolated  legislative  act,  but  to  the  entire  right  of  a  foreign 
legislature  to  rule  in  Ireland.  It  was  claimed  that  the 
national  right  asserted  by  Sinn  Fein  did  not  admit  of 
compromise  whatever  the  temporary  danger,  and  that  its 
purposes  and  plans  must  be  pursued,  not  lost  or  laid  aside, 
as  they  inevitably  would  be  if  its  leaders  stood  side  by  side 
with  those  who  regarded  those  plans  and  purposes  with 
distrust,  if  not  with  hostility.  No  doubt  some  of  these 
considerations  were  moved  by  the  desire  for  separate 
possession  and  power.  Impure  motives  move  obscurely 
in  the  sincerest  of  folk;  and  even  when  men  like  Cathal 
Brugha  spoke  it  was  impossible  for  him  to  forget  all  the 
work  that  had  gone  into  the  making  of  Sinn  Fein,  the 
lives  that  had  been  lost,  the  sacrifices  that  had  been  gladly 
made.  Those  impure  motives  moved  more  in  some  than 
in  others.  But  in  all  the  real  danger,  not  merely  to  Sinn 
Fein,  but  to  all  for  which  Sinn  Fein  stood,  was  frankly 
recognized — with  justice,  too,  as  the  event  proved. 

In  the  end,  however,  it  was  agreed  that  our  two  men 
should  accept  the  invitation.  But  it  was  asserted — on  the 
suggestion  of  Eamon  de  Valera  himself — that  they  went 
to  the  Conference  as  individuals,  binding  Sinn  Fein  in  no 
way  by  their  action.  This  was,  of  course,  absurd.  The 
suggestion  was  like  a  mathematical  formula  for  which 

193  o 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

no  practical  correlative  can  be  found — .looking  very  real 
on  paper,  but  equating  with  nothing  real  in  fact.  Our 
two  men  were  the  two  chief  leaders  of  Sinn  Fein,  and 
when  they  went  to  the  Mansion  House  Conference  it  was 
as  the  two  chief  leaders  of  Sinn  Fein  that  they  went. 
And  for  some  critical  weeks  Sinn  Fein  as  a  separate 
organization  was  merged  and  its  plans  and  purposes  laid 
aside.  For  the  nation,  with  the  peril  of  conscription 
hanging  above  it,  thought  no  more  of  separate  parties  or 
of  distinct  purposes  for  its  future  development;  it  thought 
only  of  the  immediate  need,  and  it  looked  only  to  the 
Mansion  House  Conference  as  the  expression  of  national 
unity  and  national  leadership. 

How  Sinn  Fein  was,  in  the  end,  extricated  from  this 
identity  and  resumed  its  plans,  and  the  blow  which  the 
British  Government  struck  at  its  leaders,  giving  it  com- 
plete possession  of  the  national  field,  changing  the  entire 
course  of  the  future,  form,  however,  a  separate  story. 


194 


CHAPTER    NINE 

THE   "GERMAN  PLOT"   AND  ITS 
CONSEQUENCES 

§i 

IT  is  impossible  to  describe  (it  seems,  now,  even  unreal 
to  recall)  the  immense  popular  enthusiasm  of  which 
the  Mansion  House  Conference  was  the  centre  and  the 
occasion.  The  whole  people  looked  to  it  as  to  a  beacon 
by  which  they  should  be  led  out  of  darkness.  I  am  sure 
there  never  has  been  such  concord  in  Ireland.  Enemies 
forgot  their  enmities  and  hastened  to  be  first,  in  friend- 
ship. Yet  emotion  did  not  rest,  at  concord,  but  pressed 
on  to  an  enthusiasm  that  was  like  the  advent  of  a  new 
national  being. 

That  enthusiasm,  indeed,  was  a  sign  of  ancient  foun- 
tains deeply  stirred.  .  It  was  very  easy  to  sneer  at  it,  and 
cross-channel  journals  did  not  fail  to  point  the  derisive 
finger  at  a  nation  stricken  with  cowardice  at  the  thought 
of  fighting  in  Europe.  It  was  not  that,  however.  No 
one  who  lived  through  that  time  can  have  failed  to  realize 
how  very  far  it  was  from  that.  I  do  not  say  that  the 
ingredient  of  fear  (however  legitimate  a  fear  under  the 
circumstances)  was  not  present;  but  deeper  far  was 
the  sense  of  outrage  at  the  thought  of  what  Joseph 
Devlin  justly  and  eloquently  called  a  blood-tax  charged 
on  the  nation  by  another  people,  against,  whose  rule  it 
had  never  ceased  to  protest. 

T95 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

For  the  people  expected  to  fight;  but  were  resolved  to 
fight  at  home  in  defence  of  their  right.  There  was  a 
story  told  at  the  time  of  an  English  officer,  newly  come 
to  Dublin,  who  entered  a  tea-shop  of  the  Dublin  Bread 
Company  in  Stephen's  Green.  Inside  he  asked  the 
meaning  of  the  letters  "  D.B.C."  over  the  doorway. 
The  waitress  looked  him  up  and  down  in  his  uniform, 
and  "Death  Before  Conscription,"  she  answered.  The 
story  may  have  been  apocryphal,  but  it  was  certainly 
typical.  For  the  new  mood  was  extraordinarily  one  of 
challenge  and  defiance,  of  outrage  and  of  anger.  Among 
parents  fear  for  their  children  was  naturally  stirred,  for 
the  European  War  was  to  them  a  remote  evil  that 
threatened  no  Irish  liberties,  seeing  that  there  were  no 
Irish  liberties  to  be  threatened.  But  among  the  young, 
who  were  chiefly  concerned,  and  who  formed  the 
strength  of  Sinn  Fein,  there  was  (particularly  in  Dublin) 
almost  an  eagerness  to  accept  the  proffered  challenge.  I 
remember  myself  hearing  a  Unionist  saying  to  a  friend 
of  mine :  "  Damn  you  Sinn  Feiners,  you  do  nothing  but 
smile.    Don't  you  recognize  how  serious  it  all  is?" 

Before  such  a  background  was  the  Conference  set.  It 
first  met  on  the  8th  of  April,  when  John  Dillon  and 
Joseph  Devlin,  representing  the  Parliamentary  Party; 
William  O'Brien  (of  Mallow)  and  T.  M.  Healy,  repre- 
senting the  Parliamentary  Minority;  William  O'Brien 
(of  Dublin),  Thomas  Johnson,  and  W.  J.  Egan,  represent- 
ing Labour;  and  Eamon  de  Valera  and  Arthur  Griffith, 
representing  Sinn  Fein,  gathered  at  the  Mansion  House 
under  the  chairmanship  of  the  Lord  Mayor.  At  the  same 
time  it  happened  that  the  Catholic  Bishops  were  sitting 

196 


THE    "GERMAN    PLOT  '      AND    ITS    CONSEQUENCES 

in  assembly  on  the  same  matter  at  Maynooth;  and  so  one 
each  of  all  the  groups  represented  at  the  Mansion  House 
proceeded  to  Maynooth  with  a  view  to  getting  common 
action.  The  following  morning,  therefore,  the  papers 
printed  statements  issued  from  both  conferences  strongly 
similar  in  tone.  But  the  common  action  came  on  a  more 
critical  recommendation.  For  the  Bishops  directed  their 
clergy  to  celebrate  a  public  Mass  of  intercession  the 
following  Sunday  "  to  avert  the  scourge  of  conscription 
with  which  Ireland  is  now  threatened";  and  further 
directed  them  to  announce  public  meetings,  to  be 
arranged  by  the  Conference,  at  which  a  pledge  was  to  be 
taken  in  the  following  terms :  "  Denying  the  right  of  the 
British  Government  to  enforce  compulsory  service  in  this 
country,  we  pledge  ourselves  solemnly  to  one  another  to 
resist  conscription  by  the  most  effective  means  at  our 
disposal." 

I  will  not  deal  with  these  public  events  further  than 
is  necessary  to  give  structure  to  the  story.  It  is  right  to 
say,  however,  that  the  greater  part  of  the  credit  of  the 
leadership  of  the  Conference  belongs  to  Eamon  de  Valera. 
The  immediacy  of  the  problem,  its  freedom  from  distant 
visions  and  constructive  planning,  peculiarly  well  suited 
the  faculty  of  his  mind,  and  gave  great  play  to  the  electric 
quality  of  his  leadership.  His  very  avoidance  of  diffi- 
culties chimed  with  the  hour  and  the  national  mood. 
This  was  well  shown  in  the  phrasing  of  the  pledge  I  have 
quoted.  For  clearly  so  disparate  a  Conference  could 
scarcely  be  expected  to  agree  as  to  the  means  by  which 
conscription  was  to  be  resisted.  On  one  side  stood  the 
Volunteers,  who  were  in  no  doubt  at  all,  who  only  awaited 

197 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

their  chance.  But  on  the  other  side  were  the  Parlia- 
mentarians, to  whom  armed  resistance  was  a  surrender 
of  their  authority.  And  it  was  de  Valera  who  suggested 
the  words  "  By  the  most  effective  means  at  our  disposal," 
leaving  each  to  interpret  that  blessed  phrase  according 
to  temperament  and  inclination. 

It  was,  indeed,  his  hour.  His  progress  was  everywhere 
a  triumphal  procession,  and  he  was  the  idol  of  the  people. 
Crowds  waited  outside  the  Mansion  House  for  each  dis- 
persal of  the  Conference,  and  then  no  person  was  heeded 
but  he.  Arthur  Griffith  generally  came  out  with  him, 
but  it  was  he  who  was  wanted,  and  Griffith  was 
rejoiced  that  it  should  be  so.  To  all  shifts  were  these 
men  put,  in  fact,  sometimes  to  escape  their  admirers,  who 
thronged  about  them  and  followed  them  in  great  crowds 
through  the  streets. 

§2 

Within  Sinn  Fein  our  arrangements  had  all  been 
changed  to  meet  the  new  emergency.  It  was  clear  to  all 
of  us  that  the  resistance  to  conscription  would  of  necessity 
be  an  armed  one,  and  therefore  all  members  of  the  organ- 
ization who  were  also  members  of  the  Volunteers  were 
withdrawn  to  that  service,  to  the  end  that  it  might  be 
strengthened  and  sharpened  to  the  new  necessity. 

Since  the  return  of  the  Lewes  prisoners  that  force  had 
been  reconstituted,  and  with  the  spread  of  Sinn  Fein  it 
had  been  enlarged  everywhere  by  the  enrolment  of  the 
young  men.  As  I  have  already  indicated,  a  keen  rivalry 
in  fact  existed  between  the  two  organizations,  many  of 
the  Volunteers  despising  the  political  movement,  planning 

198 


THE    "GERMAN    PLOT  "    AND    ITS    CONSEQUENCES 

always  to  bring  it  to  subservience,  and  thrusting  particu- 
larly against,  those  of  us  who  were  identified  only  with 
it,  these  thrusts  having  at  last  culminated  and  failed  at  the 
October  Convention.  But  the  great  problem  had  been 
that  of  arms,  for  with  all  armament  houses  under  Govern- 
ment control  for  the  European  War,  and  with  the  British 
fleet  sharply  patrolling  the  seas,  arms  had  been  exceed- 
ingly difficult  to  obtain  and  bring  into  the  country. 

Now,  however,  the  questions  of  armament  and 
organized  resistance  became  vital,  and  everybody  avail- 
able was  withdrawn  for  that  work.  Cathal  Brugha  was 
placed  in  charge  of  it,  and  resigned  from  the  Sinn  Fein 
Executive.  Austin  Stack,  my  colleague  in  the  secretary- 
ship, also  went  to  this  work.  And  these  two  men,  with 
Michael  Collins,  gave  all  their  time  to  it,  while  Eamon 
de  Valera  and  Arthur  Griffith  gave  their  time  to  the 
work  of  the  Mansion  House  Conference. 

Yet,  as  it  happened,  the  brunt  of  the  work  fell  on 
Sinn  Fein.  For  our  organization  was  now  called  to  prove 
its  worth.  Its  excellency,  its  newness  from  the  mint,  and 
the  rapidity  with  which  it,  and  through  it,  the  people 
could  be  mobilized,  gave  Sinn  Fein  a  commanding  lead 
in  the  country  during  these  weeks  of  tense  emotion.  Each 
day  the  Conference  sat,  and  before  it  adjourned  I  was 
ready  to  receive,  either  from  de  Valera  or  from  Griffith, 
a  summary  of  that  day's  conclusions.  These  were  not 
to  be  made  public  till  the  following  day,  when  they  would 
be  announced  in  that  bald  form  in  the  Press.  But  by 
that  time  they  had  already  been  transformed  into  definite 
executive  instructions  for  our  cumainn.  For  our  staff 
would  be  awaiting  my  return  from  the  Mansion  House, 

199 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

and  with  a  keenness  of  spirit  that  no  toil  could  blunt 
would  work  all  hours.  Thus,  within  twenty-four  hours 
of  conclusions  being  reached  at  the  Mansion  House  they 
had  been  put  into  executive  form  and  were  on  their  way 
to  the  country.  And  by  the  following  Sunday,  at  latest, 
they  had  been  communicated  to  the  people  by  and  in  the 
name  of  Sinn  Fein. 

The  first  Sunday's  meetings,  for  example,  on  the  21st 
of  April,  when  the  anti-conscription  pledge  was 
solemnly  taken  at  meetings  throughout  the  country,  were 
nearly  in  every  case  organized  by  Sinn  Fein.  The  gain 
in  leadership  this  gave  us  was  inestimable.  Later  I 
endeavoured  to  time  the  difference  between  our  speed  of 
work  and  that  of  the  two  Parliamentary  organizations, 
and  I  found  that  common  decisions,  commonly  arrived 
at  in  conference,  reached  our  cumainn  in  form  for 
action  at  least  ten  days  before  they  reached  our  rivals — 
our  rivals  who  had  lately  been,  and  who  potentially  re- 
mained, our  opponents. 

The  consequence  of  this  was  the  suggestion  that 
leaders  on  both  sides  should  speak  from  the  same  plat- 
form. This  aroused  the  strongest  opposition  among 
many  of  us,  naturally,  for  the  line  of  Sinn  Fein's 
opposition  was  different  from  the  Parliamentary  line.  If, 
said  Sinn  Fein,  it  were  right  that  Irish  representatives 
should  be  present  at  Westminster,  then  Ireland  was 
bound  by  the  decisions  of  the  majority  of  that  assembly. 
The  national  protest  against  conscription,  in  fact,  was 
the  nation's  acceptance  of  the  Sinn  Fein  doctrine  that  to 
send  elected  representatives  to  any  other  than  an  Irish 
Parliament  was  an  abnegation  of  the  nation's  integral 

200 


THE    "GERMAN    PLOT'      AND    ITS    CONSEQUENCES 

right.  How,  then,  could  Sinn  Fein  accept  a  common 
platform  with  those  who  were  members  of  the  West- 
minster Parliament? 

So  ran  the  argument.  Nevertheless,  two  such  meet- 
ings were  arranged.  At  one  of  them,  in  Ballaghadereen 
on  the  5th  of  May,  de  Valera  spoke  with  John  Dillon; 
and  at  the  other,  in  Magherafelt,  Co.  Derry,  some  days 
after,  I  spoke  with  Joseph  Devlin.  Neither  meeting  was 
exactly  a  success,  and  they  were  not  repeated.  For  in 
the  meantime  other  events  had  happened  that  had  brought 
the  two  parties  to  opposite  sides  of  the  line  of  division. 

§3 

I  have  slated  that  when  first  the  conscription  menace 
fell  like  a  shadow  across  the  scene  Sinn  Fein  had  won 
its  first  unopposed  election  in  King's  County  (now  Leix). 
Not  easily  could  the  Parliamentary  Party  allow  a  repeti- 
tion of  this  sort  of  reluctant  abdication.  Yet  within  a 
few  weeks  the  well-known  Sam  Young  died,  having 
lingered  a  long  time  ill,  and  his  death  caused  a  vacancy 
in  East  Cavan,  where  both  sides  had  been  busy  organizing 
in  prospect  of  that  lamentable  event,  in  decency  pretend- 
ing to  do  nothing  of  the  sort,  but  in  fact  giving  strenuous 
energy  to  every  square  inch  of  the  territory  comprised. 
And  before  the  Mansion  House  Conference  had  met  for 
the  first  time  this  problem  faced  us,  and,  since  the 
administration  of  Sinn  Fein  had  been  placed  in  my  hands, 
by  the  withdrawal  of  my  colleague  to  other  work,  it  fell 
particularly  to  me — in  so  far,  that  is  to  say,  as  it  could 
be  treated  as  an  administrative  problem  at  all. 

201 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

Ordinarily  it  would  have  been  so  treated.  Ordinarily 
we  would  have  instructed  the  Constituency  Executive  to 
place  a  name,  or  panel  of  names,  before  the  Central 
Executive.  It  needed  no  reflection,  however,  to  perceive 
that  the  present  circumstances,  with  the  Mansion  House 
Conference  about  to  meet,  could  hardly  be  treated  as 
ordinary.  But  we  knew  whom  our  people  in  East  Cavan 
had  already  selected :  Arthur  Griffith,  a  member  of  the 
Conference,  and,  outside  the  Labour  members,  the  only 
member  who  had  not  the  rank  of  a  public  representative. 
I  therefore  decided  to  treat  the  matter  as  arising  in  the 
ordinary  course  of  administration,  and,  the  week  before 
the  Conference  was  to  meet,  instructed  the  Constituency 
Executive  to  meet  for  the  choice  of  its  candidate,  the  date 
of  the  meeting  to  be  the  Sunday  following  the  first 
meeting  of  the  Conference. 

In  coming  to  this  decision  I  had  (though  I  will  not 
pretend  with  what  success)  endeavoured  to  put  out  of 
my  mind  the  love  I  bore  for  Arthur  Griffith.  I  did  not 
endeavour  to  put  out  of  mind  my  deep  faith  in  him,  my 
respect  for  him,  for  these  were  essential  to  any  decision 
of  such  importance.  I  knew,  to  be  sure,  that  shrewd 
criticism  would  come,  for  I  was  not  unaware  that  plans 
were  being  made  for  a  non-contentious  candidate,  plans 
that  I  had  reason  to  believe  were  not  confined  to  the 
Parliamentary  Party,  and  I  was  prepared  to  abide 
trouble. 

The  Saturday  after  the  first  meeting  of  the  Mansion 
House  Conference — the  day  before  the  appointed  meet- 
ing of  the  Constituency  Executive — I  was  going  down 
to  address  some  meeting  in  the  south  (at  Cashel,  if  my 

202 


THE    "GERMAN    PLOT  '      AND    ITS    CONSEQUENCES 

memory  says  rightly),  and  William  O'Brien  (of  Mallow) 
came  up  to  me  on  Kingsbridge  platform.  After  our  first 
greetings  he  spoke  at  once  of  the  East  Cavan  election. 
He  referred  to  the  possible  candidature  of  Griffith,  and 
said  he  was  deeply  persuaded  of  the  desirability  of  that 
candidature  in  the  present  circumstances.  Speaking  with 
that  earnestness  and  sincerity  that  have  been  the  marks 
of  his  public  life,  he  urged  that  any  measures  that  were 
necessary  should  be  taken  to  ensure  that  Arthur  Griffith 
be  elected  for  East  Cavan,  and  he  went  on  to  speak  of 
intrigue  of  which  he  knew,  to  secure  the  return  of 
another  candidate  who  was  named  by  agreement.  I 
stated  that  I  felt  sure  that  Sinn  Fein  would  put  up  a 
candidate  of  its  own  for  the  constituency,  but  he  replied 
that  no  time  was  to  be  lost,  for  the  matter  was  to  be 
under  discussion  that  very  week-end. 

He  left  me  within  three  minutes  of  the  departure  of 
the  train.  When  he  had  gone,  I  hastened  to  the  tele- 
graph office.  There  I  wired  to  the  Constituency 
Director  of  Elections,  instructing  that  the  choice  of  the 
following  evening  was  to  be  announced  without  failure 
in  the  Dublin  Press  on  Monday  morning.  Those  were 
days  when  orders  were  carried  out  to  the  letter.  This 
particular  order  meant  (as  I  afterward  learnt)  a  motor 
journey  of  over  thirty  miles  late  at  night  to  the  nearest 
telephone  station,  but  that  journey  was  made,  and  when 
I  returned  to  Dublin  by  an  early  train  on  Monday  there 
the  news  was  in  all  the  Press. 

The  first  person  who  came  in  to  see  me  at  the  office 
was  Griffith  himself.  Pointing  to  the  newspaper 
announcement  he  asked  me  if  I  had  known  the  Con- 

203 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

stituency  Executive  was  to  meet.  I  answered  that  it 
had  met  at  my  instruction,  and  that  my  instruction  had 
included  the  newspaper  announcement.  Our  further 
talk  turned  upon  personal  matters,  and  he  concluded  by 
saying  that  he  did  not  think  that  the  intrusion  of  his 
personality  at  that  moment  was  in  the  national  interest. 
The  next  person  to  come  was  de  Valera,  who  asked  the 
same  question,  and  got  the  same  answer.  He  then  said 
that  he  had  spoken  of  the  matter  with  Griffith,  and  that 
they  both  agreed  that  the  announcement  was  very  un- 
fortunate, for  it  was  felt  that  it  was  better  at  the  moment 
to  put  up  a  non-contentious  candidate,  who  would  be  re- 
turned by  agreement.  He  proposed  that  a  statement 
should  be  sent  to  the  papers  to  the  effect  that  the  choice 
of  the  local  executive  had  yet  to  come  before  headquarters, 
which  would  consider  the  appropriateness  of  a  party 
candidature  at  that  moment.  And  I  answered  that  this 
could  be  done,  but  it  had  to  be  remembered  that  the 
next  day  was  the  day  of  the  National  Strike  against  Con- 
scription— when  no  papers  would  be  published  and  when 
the  entire  nation  would  stand  idle,  displaying  by  that 
gesture  its  united  protest,  against  the  "  blood  tax."  No 
announcement  could  therefore  be  made  before  Wednes- 
day. By  that  time  the  news  would  be  belated,  and  the 
candidature  of  Arthur  Griffith  would  have  been  con- 
firmed by  the  relentless  action  of  forty-eight  hours. 

I  can  see  him  now  as  these  words  were  spoken.  We 
stood  by  the  window  in  a  corner  of  the  long  room  in 
which  we  worked,  and  as  we  had  spoken  he  had  looked 
thoughtful  and  perplexed.  But  now  he  looked  sharply 
at  me,   and  then  he  laughed,   with  acceptance  of  the 

204 


THE      'GERMAN    PLOT"'      AND    ITS    CONSEQUENCES 

inevitable.  '  I  suppose,"  he  said,  "  we  will  have  to  go 
through  with  it  now,  and  perhaps  it  is  just,  as  well " — in 
some  such  words  as  these,  and  expressing  at  least  that 
thought. 

u 

So,  while  the  Mansion  House  Conference  deliberated, 
we  were  thrown  into  the  midst  of  an  election,  in  which 
two  parties  represented  at  that  conference  contended 
against  each  other. 

The  work  was  hard  to  begin.  Since  the  days  of  the 
Parnell  split,  when  family  was  divided  against  family  and 
son  against  father,  there  has  been  a  horror  in  Ireland  of 
political  divisions,  a  horror  that  has  led  to  false  unities 
and  crushed  out  the  practice  (the  rare,  the  vital,  the  manly 
practice)  of  friendship  in  opposition  and  a  brave  giving 
and  taking  of  criticism.  When  Sinn  Fein  had  first  begun 
its  campaign  this  had  been  our  chief  difficulty,  for  the 
charge  chiefly  cast  at  us  was  that  of  being  "  factionist." 
But  now  that  Sinn  Fein  had  been  stayed  on  its  course, 
its  opposition  folded  and  laid  away,  and  some  weeks  spent 
in  learning  an  uneasy  psalm  of  peace,  hardly  would  the 
people  bear  a  renewal  of  opposition. 

It  was  this  repugnance,  I  believe,  more  than  apprecia- 
tion of  the  menace  of  conscription,  that  made  the  work 
so  hard.  The  people  did  not  want  to  hear  of  rival  policies. 
In  places  where  a  few  weeks  before  an  election  meeting 
would  have  brought  forth  a  great  hosting  and  resolute 
enthusiasm,  now  but  a  few  came,  and  these  few  were 
silent  and  perturbed.  They  would  have  come  in  throngs 
to  an  anti-conscription  meeting,  but  to  a  political  meet- 

205 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

ing  they  would  not.  It  was  necessary  therefore  to  weave 
the  two  together,  and  this  was  done  by  pointing  that 
the  right  of  Westminster  to  legislate  for  Ireland  had  at 
least  this  much  sanction  in  the  eyes  of  the  world,  that 
Ireland  was  represented  there  with  her  consent.  In  the 
present  election,  therefore,  held  under  the  threat  of  con- 
scription, it  was  vital  that  a  candidate  should  be  returned 
whose  presence  there  would  not  continue  that  sanction. 

By  arguments  such  as  these  was  the  lost  ground  re- 
covered. But  our  chief  strength,  of  course,  was  in  our 
candidate.  Arthur  Griffith's  position  at  the  Mansion 
House  Conference,  the  recognition  everywhere  of  his 
willingness  to  stand  aside  and  his  steadfast,  unbreakable 
courage,  were  factors  that  became  more  important  with 
each  week  that  passed. 

We  were  confident  of  winning  the  election  at  any  time, 
for  a  year's  detailed  work  had  been  given  to  the  con- 
stituency, and  the  delay  was  sincerely  regretted  by  all 
of  us,  and  by  none  more  than  Arthur  Griffith,  for  it 
embittered  much  more  than  the  electoral  contest;  but  the 
fact  remains  that  each  week's  delay  helped  us  more  and 
more,  for  it  brought  us  further  from  the  talk  of  unity 
(where  there  was  little  real  unity)  and  enabled  our  entire 
organization  to  be  thrown  in  the  constituency.  Yet  the 
Parliamentary  Party  constantly  delayed  the  issue  of  the 
writ,  and  that  delay  could  only  be  explained  by  us  as 
born  of  a  hope  that  some  chance  would  avert  from  them 
a  blow  that  could  not  help  but  be  (as  indeed  it  proved 
to  be)  of  fatal  consequence. 


206 


THE    ''GERMAN    PLOT'      AND    ITS    CONSEQUENCES 

§5 

Other  eyes,  however,  were  watching  these  events.  For 
it  must  now  have  been  clear  to  the  British  Government 
that  the  Man-Power  Act  could  hardly  be  applied  to 
Ireland  without  the  help  of  more  forces  than  could  be 
spared  from  Europe — that  application  of  the  Act  would 
in  fact  deplete  rather  than  augment  the  necessary  man- 
power for  Europe.  As  for  the  Home  Rule  addition  by 
which  that  application  could  be  held  to  be  justified,  none 
spoke  of  it  or  thought  of  it.  All  this  was  due  to  Sinn 
Fein,  which  was  organizing  disciplined  man-power  of  its 
own  in  readiness  for  another  war,  and  which,  by  the 
logic  of  circumstance  helped  by  wide  plans,  was  now 
admittedly  the  master-power  in  Ireland. 

Counter-plans  were  therefore  made  to  strike  so  heavy  a 
blow  at  Sinn  Fein  that  it  would  not  easily  recover  from 
it.  The  first  parts  of  these  plans  were  not  observed  at 
the  time.  They  were  afterwards  apparent.  The  sequence 
of  events  may  be  outlined  in  a  sentence  or  two,  and  it 
is  important,  for  it  influenced  more  of  the  future  than 
could  possibly  have  been  imagined  at  the  time,  or  than 
has  been  recognized  since. 

The  first  event  occurred  on  the  12th  of  April,  two  days 
after  Mr.  Lloyd  George  had  announced  in  the  British 
Commons  the  intention  of  his  Government  to  apply  con- 
scription to  Ireland.  For  on  that  day  a  man  landed  on 
the  coast  of  Co.  Clare  in  a  collapsible  boat.  This 
man  was  Joseph  Dowling,  who  lies  to-day  in  gaol,1  despite 
special   resolutions  of  both   Houses   of   the   Free  State 

1  Released  in  February,  1924. 
207 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

Oireachtas  calling  for  his  release  in  accordance  with  the 
amnesty  accorded  to  all  other  political  prisoners.  The 
facts  concerning  his  landing  have  never  been  stated,  and 
may  now  be.  For  he  was  arrested  immediately  on  his 
landing.  He  came,  however,  bearing  a  message  from 
the  German  Government  to  the  leaders  of  Sinn  Fein 
in  Ireland.  In  spite  of  this  arrest  that  message  was  duly 
delivered,  but  it  did  not  in  the  least  influence  anybody, 
and  it  certainly  did  not  constitute  negotiations  between 
Sinn  Fein  and  the  German  Government.  During  Easter 
Week  reliance  had  been  placed  on  German  co-operation, 
and  Sinn  Fein  was  not  again  going  to  be  made  a  catspaw 
of  foreign  Powers,  either  among  the  Allies  or  among  the 
Central  Powers.  Dowling  came  only  to  deliver  a  message, 
and  he  delivered  his  message  in  spite  of  all  difficulties, 
and  that  message  neither  constituted  a  German  plot  nor 
constituted  Dowling  a  plotter.  Indeed,  Dowling  played 
the  part  of  a  man,  for  had  he  at  the  time  divulged  the 
fact  that  his  message  was  to  his  captors  there  is  no  doubt 
but  that  he  would  have  been  released.  Instead  of  which 
he  kept  his  silence,  and  for  that  he  is  still  in  gaol,  though 
every  other  political  prisoner  has  been  released. 

This  landing,  however,  started  all  that  followed,  for 
it  clearly  gave  the  opportunity  of  a  blow  at  Sinn  Fein. 
And  twelve  days  afterwards  the  first  preparation  was 
made  for  this  blow.  For  two  years  before  steps  had  been 
taken  to  test  the  legality,  under  the  regulations  of  the 
Defence  of  the  Realm  Act,  of  our  removal  outside  Ireland, 
but  our  releases  had  put  an  abrupt  end  to  these  proceed- 
ings. Now,  on  the  24th  of  April,  quietly  and  without 
notice,  these  regulations  were  altered,  so  as  to  secure  the 

208 


THE    "GERMAN    PLOT  '      AND    ITS    CONSEQUENCES 

legality  of  such  deportations  without  trial.  Other  more 
startling  changes  were  on  wing  however.  For  on  the 
ist  of  May  Mr.  Shortt  was  appointed  Chief  Secretary  for 
Ireland  in  the  room  of  Mr.  Duke,  and  on  the  6th  of  May 
Field  Marshal  Lord  French  was  appointed  Viceroy  in 
the  room  of  Lord  Wimborne. 

Then  these  things  being  accomplished,  on  the  8th  of 
May  Sir  Edward  Carson,  not  a  member  of  the  Govern- 
ment, issued  a  statement  saying  "  that  the  Government 
have  the  clearest  evidence  in  their  possession  that  the 
Sinn  Fein  organization  is,  and  has  been,  in  alliance  with 
Germany."  No  one  who  knew  Ireland  but  knew  that 
such  a  statement,  coming  from  such  a  quarter,  was 
ominous.  But  more  was  to  follow.  For,  in  the  light  of 
what  has  been  seen,  the  last  step  follows  with  curious 
significance.  On  the  ioth  of  May  General  Sir  Bryan 
Mahon  was  moved  from  his  command.  He  was  then 
General  Commanding  the  troops  in  Ireland :  he  is  now 
a  Free  State  Senator,  and  as  such  has  been  moving 
strongly  for  the  release  of  Joseph  Dowling,  a  matter  in 
which  he  speaks  with  remarkable  authority.  On  his 
leaving  he  took  occasion  to  address  the  troops,  so  as  to 
say  that  he  left  "  with  deep  regret " — a  singular  procedure 
that  struck  us  at  the  time  as  intended  to  be  of  public 
significance. 

Such  were  the  preparations  for  the  famous  "  German 
plot,"  by  which  Sinn  Fein  was  to  be  struck  from  power. 
There  was  no  such  plot;  the  real  plotters  sat  in  the  seats 
of  authority,  and  their  plot  was  to  have  a  very  different 
conclusion  from  what  was  intended.  It  was,  in  fact,  to 
change   the  entire  course  of   the   future  by   putting  a 

209  p 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

different  body  of  men  in  control  of  the  organization, 
and  thus  to  compel  the  very  conflict  which  they  desired 
to  avert,  a  conflict  which  (or  at  least  the  bitter  severity  of 
which)  might  have  been  avoided  for  the  country  had  the 
plot  not  been  framed,  But  this  was  hidden  in  the  future. 
At  the  time  we  knew  nothing  of  the  blow  that  was  about 
to  fall.  We  took  these  administrative  changes  to  mean 
the  certain  application  of  conscription  in  the  very  near 
future,  and  we  were  busy  completing  our  arrangements 
for  organized  resistance. 

§6 

On  Friday,  the  17th  of  May,  I  had  been  busy  all  day 
at  headquarters,  and  had  returned  home  late  in  the  after- 
noon quietly  to  consider  certain  matters  which  I  was  to 
bring  before  a  meeting  of  the  Executive  that  night.  I 
returned  to  the  office  about  7.30  to  find  it  a  scene  of 
bustle  and  activity  and  no  little  hilarity.  Papers  and  files 
were  being  tied  together  and  removed  to  places  of  safety, 
and  I  was  told  that  we  were  all  to  be  arrested  that  night. 
Those  were  times  when  everyone  was  ready  to  take  all 
that  befell  with  humour,  for  without  that  humour  much 
of  the  strain  of  these  hours  could  hardly  have  been  borne. 
Bonnier  and  better  to  take  the  blows  that  came  to  us 
cheerily,  since  to  consider  them  too  deeply  must  have 
unmanned  the  mind.  So  each  worker  reminded  his 
fellow  of  the  prisons  he  was  to  revisit,  and  it  was  only 
with  difficulty,  amid  the  quips  that  flew  about,  that  I 
could  discover  what  had  happened.  Then  I  learnt  that 
intelligence  had  come  that  widespread   arrests  were  to 

210 


THE    "GERMAN    PLOT'      AND    ITS    CONSEQUENCES 

occur  that  night,  that  the  detective  division  (the  "  G ' 
Division,  the  members  of  which  were  known  as  Gee-men) 
had  been  mobilized  for  action,  and  that  a  fleet  of  lorries 
was  even  dien  ready  in  the  "  Upper  Castle  Yard." 

So  that  night,  while  the  staff  worked,  the  Executive 
considered  the  matter.  We  finished  our  ordinary  agenda 
first,  had  our  decisions  recorded  for  action,  and  it  must 
have  been  well  past  nine  at  night  before  we  turned  to  the 
matter  of  our  threatened  arrests.  By  that  time,  our  full 
number  having  mustered,  the  house  must  have  been  sur- 
rounded by  not  less  than  thirty  or  forty  detectives — for 
most  of  us  were  accustomed  to  be  watched  in  all  our 
movements — and  these  were  in  turn  watched  by  our 
pickets.  Yet  we  could  have  escaped  without  very  great 
difficulty  had  we  so  decided.  The  problem  before  us 
was  whether  we  should  escape.  For  the  question  that 
required  of  us  an  answer  was,  assuming  our  intelligence 
to  be  correct  (and  it  was  sharp  and  precise,  admitting 
of  little  doubt),  what  action  on  our  part  would  best  accord 
with  the  policy  we  had  placed  before  the  country.  For 
in  our  answer  that  night,  with  the  enemy  preparing  at 
that  moment  to  strike  at  us,  the  whole  national  future 
would  necessarily  be  involved. 

As  my  recollection  brings  back  that  scene,  in  Arthur 
Griffith's  private  room  at  the  back  of  the  house,  I  am 
stirred  by  pride  in  my  comrades  and  our  comradeship 
of  those  days.  No  one  thought  of  himself  or  herself, 
and  all  our  debate  was  directed  to  the  effect  on  the  country. 
There  were  three  alternatives  before  us,  and  we  discussed 
each  calmly  in  all  its  bearings.  The  first  was  to  go  into 
hiding,   or  as  our   Irish   idiom   runs,   to   "go   on   our 

211 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

keeping";  the  second  was  that  of  armed  resistance;  and 
the  third  was  to  acquiesce  quietly  in  our  arrests.  We 
debated  each  of  these  in  turn,  from  the  point  of  view  of 
national  policy.  And  we  decided  that  the  first  was  un- 
sound, for  if  we  went  on  our  keeping  the  national 
discipline  would  certainly  be  impaired  by  the  thought  of 
its  leaders  skulking  under  cover  before  the  first  blow 
offered  by  our  foeman.  That  would  be  fatal.  Under 
cover  we  would  be  useless  and  the  national  courage 
undermined.  Turning  to  the  second  alternative,  we 
dismissed  this  too.  For  if  we  offered  armed  resistance 
within  a  few  hours  the  Volunteers  would  be  forced  into 
action.  That,  too,  would  be  fatal.  For  while  we  had 
publicly  advocated  armed  resistance  in  the  event  of  con- 
scription being  enforced,  we  had  been  equally  resolved 
that,  to  gain  our  point  of  view,  the  nation  must  act  on 
the  defensive  in  such  resistance.  To  be  forced  into  the 
offensive  would  undo  our  case.  So  we  decided  against 
this  also — after  a  discussion  that  was  much  more 
collected  than  many  a  decision  in  chess-strategy. 

Thus  we  were  left  with  our  last  alternative,  to  acquiesce 
without  resistance  in  our  arrests,  and  we  discussed  this, 
too,  in  all  its  bearings.  It  seemed  to  us  that  our  arrests 
could  not  but  stiffen  the  national  resistance.  There  would 
be  many  others  to  take  our  places,  whereas  the  shock 
would  startle  and  arouse  the  country.  Moreover,  the 
effect  of  such  arrests  on  the  East  Cavan  election  would 
be  to  raise  the  issue  there  beyond  all  doubt.  So  we 
decided  that  each  member  of  the  Executive  should  return 
to  his  or  her  home,  and  stand  to  arrest,  whatever  the  con- 
sequence of  these  arrests  were  to  be — and  we  did  not 

212 


THE    "GERMAN     PLOT  '      AND    ITS    CONSEQUENCES 

then  know  but  that  they  might  be  the  prelude  to  State 
trials  for  treason. 

When  I  reached  home  that  night  it  was  nearly  eleven 
o'clock,  and  I  told  my  wife  all  that  had  happened.  I 
had  been  followed  home  by  two  detectives,  who  stood  in 
a  doorway  opposite  even  while  we  spoke.  She  suggested 
the  ease  of  escape,  but  that  was  out  of  the  question,  for 
we  had  to  be  faithful  to  the  decision  we  had  taken.  So 
she  packed  my  bag  for  my  journey,  wherever  I  was  to 
be  taken,  and  prepared  a  meal,  since  I  did  not  know 
when  next  I  should  have  another. 

I  was  actually  at  this  meal,  and  arranging  a  number 
of  business  details  for  my  absence,  when  we  heard 
stealthy  footsteps  on  the  stair.  It  was  my  captors  surely 
enough,  who  came  through  the  darkness  to  my  flat  with 
their  pockets  heavy' with  revolvers,  and  a  few  yards  down 
the  road  was  a  lorry  with  twenty  soldiers. 

§7 
I  have  written  of  this  arrest  and  of  the  gaols  that 
followed,  in  another  place,  and  will  not  write  at  length 
of  them  again.  It  is  enough  to  say  that  I  was  taken 
first  to  die  guard-room  at  Dublin  Castle,  arriving  soon 
after  midnight.  I  wish  to  return  my  thanks  to  the 
sergeant  of  the  guard,  on  whose  "  doss "  (as  he  with 
simple  friendliness  offered  it)  I  slept  till  the  next  party 
arrived  about  three  o'clock  that  night.  The  first  of  these 
was  Arthur  Griffith,  and  I  can  see  now  that  dear  man's 
sharp  turn  towards  me  and  his  friendly  greeting  as  I 
rose  on  my  bed  and  hailed  him. 

213 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

At  four  that  night  a  party  of  eight  or  nine  of  us 
(some  among  the  great  dead,  some  in  gaol  as  Irregulars, 
and  some  supporters  of  the  Free  State)  were  taken  down 
to  Kingstown  and  deposited  in  the  hold  of  a  gunboat 
that  awaited  us.  There  was  only  one  person  already 
in  that  hold,  and  he  arose  out  of  the  darkness  to  greet 
us  with  outstretched  hand.  This  was  Eamon  de  Valera. 
He  had  been  taken  on  his  way  to  his  home  at  Greystones. 
But  all  that  day  we  were  joined  by  later  parties,  many 
of  whom  had  been  brought  down  from  the  election  in 
Cavan.  When  our  hold  was  full  we  heard  them  on  the 
deck  overhead  being  tramped  to  another  part  of  the  ship 
— to  the  aft-hold,  as  we  afterwards  discovered.  And  it 
was  not  till  after  four  in  the  afternoon  that  the  gunboat 
swung  loose  from  the  quay  and  bore  us  to  our  exile. 

During  the  Sunday  that  followed  we  were  kept  in  a 
camp  at  Holyhead,  and  on  Monday  divided  into  two 
sections,  one  party  being  taken  to  Usk  Gaol  and  the  other 
to  Gloucester  Gaol.  I  was  in  the  latter  party,  as  were  most 
of  the  members  of  the  Sinn  Fein  Executive  Committee. 
On  our  journey  we  were  treated  with  the  greatest  courtesy 
by  the  officers  and  men  of  the  Welsh  regiment  from 
which  our  guard  was  formed — who  spent  their  time 
collecting  our  autographs  at  foot  of  what  purported  to 
be  our  likenesses  in  the  illustrated  Press.  Their  friendli- 
ness was,  indeed,  of  great  assistance  to  us,  for  they 
protected  us  with  no  little  truculency  from  the  crowds 
that,  innocently  believing  what  they  had  been  told  of  us, 
moved  threateningly  about  us  as  we  were  marched 
through  the  streets  in  Gloucester  city.  Some  of  them,  in 
fact,  expressed  their  preferences  as  between  prisoners  and 

214 


THE    "GERMAN    PLOT'      AND    ITS    CONSEQUENCES 

citizens  in  language  that  was  highly  decorative  and  force- 
ful, yet  measured  and  sufficient.  For  they  had  learned 
of  us  as  we  had  travelled  together,  whereas  the  others  had 
only  read  of  us. 

At  Gloucester  Gaol,  tired  as  we  were,  we  had  again  to 
fight,  long  and  Stubbornly,  for  our  rights — as  political 
undesirables,  let  me  say,  as  distinguished  from  prisoners. 
Prepared  as  we  were  to  fight  for  these  rights,  they  were  con- 
ceded, for  nothing  was  ever  conceded  to  us  in  grace.  Our 
party  at  Gloucester  contained  Eamon  de  Valera,  Arthur 
Griffith,  and  William  T.  Cosgrave,  each  in  turn  heads 
of  the  Irish  State,  as  well  as  others  who  have  figured  with 
honour  and  prominence  in  their  nation's  service.  Some 
of  our  company  then  are  now  among  the  Irregulars,  but 
the  chief  of  them  have  supported  the  treaty  from  the  first. 

At  Gloucester  we  read  for  the  first  time  the  published 
information  of  our  "plot;"  and  nothing  surprised  us  so 
much  as  the  lack  of  skill  with  which  the  poor  case  was 
marshalled  in  the  official  statement. 

We  were  not  permitted  to  remain  long  as  so  complete 
a  company  at  Gloucester.  For  a  week  later  a  party  of  us 
were  taken  out  and  removed  to  Lincoln  Gaol.  That  party 
included  Eamon  de  Valera,  Sean  McGarry,  and  Sean 
Milroy  (now  deputies  of  Dail  Eireann),  who  escaped  from 
diere.  And  two  days  afterwards  I  was  taken  alone  to 
Durham  Gaol,  where  certain  later  arrests  had  been  taken. 

So  began  what  was  for  me  the  weariest  of  my  arrests. 
Durham  Gaol  is  old  and  damp.  Our  company  there  was 
eventually  thirteen,  and  the  space  available  for  us  for 
daily  association  was  not  adequate.  I  had  not  before 
met  any  of  those  whom  I  at  first  saw  there;  and  new  com- 

215 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

panions  (particularly  under  such  enforced  conditions) 
have  always  created  in  me  the  extreme  of  discomfort 
and  distress.  No  visits  were  allowed  from  friend  or  rela- 
tion, except  under  conditions  that  it  was  well  known 
would  not  be  accepted  by  us  or  by  them.  So  I  spent  most 
of  my  time  making  up  arrears  of  reading;  and  as  I  was 
destined  to  be  there  for  nearly  eleven  months,  I  had  a 
considerable  library  to  bring  away  with  me  in  the  end. 
But  many  things  were  to  happen  before  that  end. 

§8 

For  our  arrests  created  the  very  erred:  in  Ireland  for 
which  we  had  calculated — an  effect  the  opposite  of  that 
on  which  the  Government  had  gambled.  For  a  long 
time  in  gaol  we  were  not  permitted  to  receive  any  Irish 
papers;  but  we  hardly  needed  them  to  know  (what  is  the 
historic  fact)  that  the  people  were  stirred  as  they  had  been 
by  few  events.  The  enforcement  of  Conscription  was  put 
out  of  the  question  altogether  in  the  face  of  a  people  so 
powerfully  rallied.  Sinn  Fein  was  finally  placed  in 
national  leadership  and  control.  And  for  a  sign  Arthur 
Griffith  was  returned  for  East  Cavan  bv  an  overwhelm- 
ing  majority. 

Moreover,  as  we  knew,  and  as  we  had  arranged  for  at 
our  last  meeting  on  the  night  of  our  arrests,  the  Officer 
Board  and  the  Executive  Committee  were  at  once  recon- 
stituted by  those  who  stepped  into  our  places.  Our  files 
and  papers — of  which  duplicates,  for  that  matter,  had 
always  been  kept — were  brought  from  their  places  of 
safety;  and  the  work  continued  as  before. 

216 


THE    "GERMAN    PLOT""    AND    ITS    CONSEQUENCES 

Thus  a  curious  thing  was  brought  to  pass.  I  have 
already  shown  how,  at  various  critical  occasions,  a  strong 
internal  rivalry,  or  opposition  of  forces,  had  threatened  to 
rend  the  organization  asunder.  Since  human  nature  may 
never  be  denied,  this  opposition  of  forces  had  been 
governed  by  strong  personal  reactions  and  antipathies, 
but  it  was  based  more  deeply.  Partly  it  existed  in 
opposed  politics :  as  between  those  who  seemed,  to  judge 
from  their  speech,  to  think  only  of  armed  force  and 
obedient,  disciplined  ranks  of  youth,  and  those  who  held 
that  armed  force  was  of  little  avail  save  in  defence  and 
support  of  a  reasoned  policy.  But  actually  it  had  been 
deeper  even  than  this.  It  had  consisted  of  the  struggle 
of  the  Irish  Republican  Brotherhood,  generally  known  as 
the  I.R.B.,  a  pledge-sworn  secret  society,  for  political 
power  and  control.  Michael  Collins  was  at  the  time  at 
the  head  of  this  body,  and  he  was  surrounded  by  a 
number  of  lieutenants,  all  of  whom  held  prominent  com- 
mand in  the  Volunteers.  Cathal  Brugha,  who  then  was 
at  the  head  of  the  Volunteers,  had  actually  left  the  I.R.B. 
after  Easter  Week;  but  its  faith  was  his  faith,  save  that 
he  cared  little  for  politics  and  political  control,  whereas 
the  others  sought  always  for  control  of  Sinn  Fein  and 
desired  to  put  out  of  power  those  of  us  who  were  not  in 
the  Brotherhood  and  were  not,  in  the  armament  sense, 
fighting  men. 

This  opposition  had  come  to  a  head  at  the  October 
Convention,  when  a  voting  list,  from  which  certain  of  us 
had  been  markedly  excluded,  had  been  prepared  by  the 
I.R.B.  and  circulated  to  delegates.  It  has  been  seen  how 
the  exposure  of  this  list  had  defeated  its  intention.    Some 

217 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

of  those  named  on  the  lift,  including  Michael  Collins, 
had  been  elected  to  the  Executive;  but  the  I.R.B.  failed 
to  get  the  control  it  had  sought.  The  consequence  had 
been  that,  while  some  members  of  the  Brotherhood  had 
worked  actively  with  Sinn  Fein,  others,  and  conspicuously 
Michael  Collins,  had  taken  little  part  in  its  political  work, 
but  had  kept  to  the  Volunteers — of  which  body  he  him- 
self at  that  moment  was  Adjutant-General. 

So  it  happened  that  neither  he  nor  those  who  acted 
with  him  had  been  present  at  our  meeting  when  we  had 
decided  to  stand  to  our  arrests.  None  of  them  were 
arrested;  for  they  acted  together,  and  went  immediately 
"  on  their  keeping,"  including  Harry  Boland,  who  had 
been  present  at  the  meeting.  The  Brotherhood  was, 
therefore,  in  a  strong  position  now  to  capture  the  control 
it  had  sought  so  long;  and  it  was  to  these  men,  indeed, 
that  the  organization  naturally  looked  to  take  the  places 
of  those  who  had  been  removed.  They  did  so  at  the 
very  moment  when  the  powerful  revulsion  of  feeling  all 
over  the  country,  caused  by  the  arrests,  put  Sinn  Fein  into 
undisputed  leadership  of  the  nation.  And  such  was  the 
curious  chance  by  which  the  British  Government  made 
the  I.R.B.  masters  of  the  scene. 

In  this  manner,  then,  came  Michael  Collins  to  the 
control  for  which  he  had  striven,  which  he  held  so 
tenaciously,  and  which  he  maintained  to  the  end.  A 
man  of  ruthless  purpose  and  furious  energy,  knowing 
clearly  what  he  wanted  and  prepared  to  trample  down 
everybody  to  get  it,  he  was  the  real  master  of  the  new 
Executive.  The  new  secretaries  were  Sean  T.  O'Kelly 
and    Harry    Boland,   but   behind   Boland   was   Michael 

218 


THE    "GERMAN    PLOT  '      AND    ITS    CONSEQUENCES 

Collins,  whose  hourly  companion  and  faithful  adherent 
he  was.  The  new  President  was  Father  O'Flanagan,  the 
only  one  of  the  two  Vice-Presidents  who  had  not  been 
arretted;  and  he  also,  at  that  time,  was  Collins'  adherent 
— though  he  may  have  construed  the  terms  of  allegiance 
otherwise. 

Others  there  were  of  the  same  kind,  whose  names  and 
personalities  do  not  matter,  for  they  have  passed  out  of 
the  field,  in  the  race  that  was  yet  so  furiously  to  be  run. 
But  the  real  masters  of  the  new  scene  were  two,  and 
they  exerted  their  powers  in  very  different  fashions, 
according  to  the  wholly  different  inclination  of  their 
temperaments.  The  two  of  them  were  to  come  into 
violent  conflict  in  the  end,  and  were  to  die  violently  on 
opposite  sides  within  a  few  weeks  of  one  another  in  the 
breaking  asunder  of  the  violent  instrument  which  they 
then  created.  No  passages  of  more  bitter  acrimony  were 
to  be  heard  in  the  national  history  than  were  yet  to  be 
exchanged  between  these  two  men,  before  the  supporters 
of  each  wrought  the  death  of  the  other.  But  at  that  time, 
though  even  then  there  was  little  sympathy  between  the 
two,  they  combined  in  all  ill-assorted  but  most  effective 
partnership  of  power. 

The  first  of  these  was  Michael  Collins.  His  was  the 
power  he  desired.  With  the  secret  organization  of  the 
I.R.B.  behind  him,  and  with  the  more  forceful  members 
of  the  new  Executive  acting  at  his  behest,  he  could  afford 
to  remain  in  the  background  while  exercising  the  real 
control  of  the  public  organization  of  Sinn  Fein.  It  was 
during  these  months,  I  believe,  when  it  seemed  at  the 
height  of  its  power  and  authority,  that  Sinn  Fein  first 

219 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

began  to  be  bled  of  its  Strength.  For  nothing  will  more 
weaken  any  public  institution  than  for  it  to  be  wire-pulled 
by  secret  forces.  Yet  Collins'  control  was  very  effective, 
and  his  energy  was  without  limit  in  the  exercise  of  that 
control. 

The  second  of  these  was  Cathal  Brugha.  He  also  had 
the  power  he  desired.  He  controlled  nobody,  as  Collins 
did;  and  he  was  quietly  contemptuous  of  that  kind  of 
control.  But  in  the  end,  when  the  organization  had  been 
manipulated  by  the  restless  energy  of  Collins,  all  issues  of 
policy  ultimately  came  back  to  him.  For  on  these  matters 
his  rigid  will  could  never  be  moved.  Stubborn,  unbreak- 
able, intractable,  there  was  now  no  Arthur  Griffith  to  pit 
him  will  against  will,  and  compel  him  to  come  down  to 
the  details  of  policy.  His  life  in  the  dream  of  the  Re- 
public— a  Republic  of  name,  without  definition  or  con- 
stitution— was  his  reality.  The  public  declaration  of  that 
name  was  all  that  to  him  was  required  to  complete  the 
reality  that  existed  indivisibly  in  his  mind.  And  since  it 
is  in  such  attitudes  of  policy,  rather  than  in  the  control 
and  manipulation  of  organizations,  that  real  leadership 
exists,  it  was  to  Cadial  Brugha  that  the  leadership  passed 
during  this  period,  as  the  event  was  to  show. 

It  only  wanted  Father  O'Flanagan  to  give  the  eloquent 
flourish  to  this  combination  for  it  to  be  publicly  com- 
plete. And  that  public  completion  was  most  necessary 
to  stir  and  hold  the  imagination  of  the  people  during  the 
critical  months  that  were  to  follow.  For  when  the  British 
Government  saw  the  mistake  it  had  made  it  moved  ahead 
at  once  to  the  proclamation  of  Sinn  Fein.  Every  effort 
was  made  to  stamp  out  its  activities;  and  men  were  seized 

220 


THE    "GERMAN    PLOT'      AND    ITS    CONSEQUENCES 

and  thrown  into  gaol  for  merely  reading  a  declaration  of 
policy.  All  these  efforts,  however,  were  in  vain.  The 
people  stood  solidly  behind  Sinn  Fein,  with  that  quality 
of  conviction  that  violence  only  makes  more  resolute; 
and  a  moment  was  approaching  when  this  was  to  be  seen 
in  unmistakable  form. 

For  the  European  War  ended  in  the  Armistice,  and 
all  thoughts  (throughout  the  world,  and  peculiarly  in 
Ireland)  were  turned  towards  the  Peace  Conference,  the 
cardinal  factor,  at  that  time,  of  Sinn  Fein  policy.  It  was 
at  this  moment  diat  Mr.  Lloyd  George  dissolved  Parlia- 
ment; and  this,  of  course,  involved  Ireland  in  the  General 
Election.  Now,  therefore,  had  come  the  moment  for 
which  Sinn  Fein  had  worked  for  two  years;  and  every 
energy  was  thrown  into  the  effort  to  make  Ireland's 
demand  for  independence  at  the  Peace  Conference  un- 
mistakable because  unanimous. 

So  the  irony  was  refined  and  finished.  It  was  in  view 
of  this  moment  that  a  long  contest  had  been  fought 
within  the  ranks  of  Sinn  Fein — and  before  those  ranks 
had,  eighteen  months  before,  been  widened  to  include 
certain  others  of  slower  speed.  The  I.R.B.,  under  Michael 
Collins,  had  struggled  for  the  control  of  the  organization 
of  Sinn  Fein,  as  it  had  captured  and  controlled  the  organi- 
zation of  the  Volunteers.  But  it  had  been  beaten  in  open 
vote  in  a  Convention  representative  of  the  entire  country. 
On  the  other  hand,  Cathal  Brugha  had  fought  stubbornly 
for  a  Constitution  in  which  the  Republic  of  his  dream 
should  be  accepted  as  an  inflexible,  unquestionable  fact. 
But  he  also  had  been  defeated  by  Arthur  Griffidi,  who 
had  laid  down  the  principle  that  this  was  a  question  the 

221 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

people  themselves  musl:  finally  answer  in  the  exercise  of 
their  freedom.  And  now  had  come  the  moment  when 
the  harvest  of  these  victories  should  have  been  reaped. 
Instead  of  which,  by  the  action  of  the  British  Govern- 
ment in  arresting  those  whom  die  people  had  appointed, 
those  who  had  been  defeated  were  in  power  at  the  head 
of  a  triumphant  organization  at  a  time  of  General  Elec- 
tion to  carry  out  their  purposes. 

For  some  of  us  the  consequence  was  to  be  serious.  For 
myself,  as  will  be  seen,  it  practically  meant  that  I  was  to 
be  thrown  out  of  the  organization.  Apart  from  the 
personal  aspect,  however,  the  irony  was  certainly  masterly 
and  complete.  I  have  already  said  that  the  entire  course 
of  the  future  was  to  be  governed  by  it  during  years  of 
such  darkness  and  intensity  of  violence  as  few  peoples 
have  been  required  to  endure. 


222 


CHAPTER    TEN 


THE  DECLARATION  OF  THE  REPUBLIC 
OF  IRELAND 

§i 

WHAT  is  that  fabled  dragon  of  a  man's  life,  his 
worst  enemy?  The  measure  of  his  infamy,  or 
the  tribute  to  his  quality?  Or  both?  Or  is  it  the  meed 
of  the  "  insolence  of  talent  which  is  expiated  by  dumb 
hatred,  and  calumnies  not  loud  but  deep,"  as  good 
Jacques  Tournebroche  is  alleged  to  have  earned?  I  do 
not  pretend  to  say;  but  I  fear  that  there  are  some  in  my 
days  who  would  vie  with  one  another  for  that  poor 
distinction.  Yet,  whoever  they  be  and  wherever  they 
be,  few  or  many,  I  would  not  wish  them  such  weeks  as 
I  spent  in  the  winter  that  closed  1918  and  opened  1919. 
Not  all  winter  fruit,  I  think,  can  be  as  bitter  as  the  fruit 
I  could  not  put  away  from  me  then;  and  I  am  sure  that 
the  taste  of  that  fruit  will  never  leave  my  tongue,  or  be 
forgotten  by  my  mind.  Always  I  shall  bear  the  scar 
of  the  torture  that  body  and  brain  conspired  to  bestow. 

I  have  been  housed  in  ten  different  gaols  or  places  of 
confinement,  and  among  them  Durham  Gaol  is  possessed 
of  a  peculiar  distinction.  It  is  built  of  local  sandstone 
that  loves  to  absorb  the  mists  of  that  northern  clime  and 
nurture  them  for  the  refinements  of  wintry  pleasure.  It 
is  built  of  two  sections,  one  of  an  antiquity  more  vener- 

223 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

able  than  comfortable,  and  the  other,  modern,  yet  warm. 
My  cell  was  on  the  borders  of  the  two.  From  another 
part  of  the  gaol  I  stole  a  thermometer,  in  a  morbid  desire 
to  Study  the  degrees  of  my  bodily  torment.  The  theft  is 
yet  with  me,  and  hangs  before  me  now  as  I  write.  For 
over  seven  weeks  I  never  remember  to  have  seen  it  rise 
above  44  degrees  Fahrenheit.  For  it  must  be  remembered 
that  at  that  time  there  was  a  coal  shortage  in  Great  Britain, 
and  the  Governor  of  the  gaol  was  courteous  to  explain 
to  us  that  his  authorities  had  enjoined  parsimony  upon 
him.  The  furnaces  for  central  heating  were,  therefore, 
kept  low;  and  my  cell  was  the  last  of  the  row,  so  that 
everyone  else  had  exhausted  the  heat  of  the  air  before  it 
came  to  me  in  a  chill  and  deathly  blast. 

I  asked  for  more  blankets,  with  which  I  was  readily 
supplied.  But  prison  blankets  are  of  strange  manufac- 
ture. They  are  close-woven,  hard,  and  heavy.  They  lie 
upon  one  like  sheets  of  lead,  weighty  on  the  limbs,  re- 
stricting the  circulation  of  the  blood;  and  I  was  glad  to 
be  rid  of  them,  or  as  many  of  them  as  I  reasonably  could. 
I  remember  many  a  night  feeling  the  life  leave  my  limbs, 
and  getting  out  of  my  bed  to  restore  heat  by  hard  and 
vigorous  exercise.  But  this  itself,  as  it  began  by  being 
unpleasant,  ended  by  being  painful.  For  I  got  severe 
neuritis  in  my  arms  and  shoulders,  and  lay  wakeful,  not 
knowing  whether  it  were  better  to  endure  the  pain  and 
awaken  heat,  or  endure  the  cold  and  evade  the  added 
pain. 

Those  nights  were  not  pleasant.  And  it  was  to  such 
nights  that  there  came  reflections  that  made  bodily  pain 
a  mere  pleasantry  by  comparison.    I  have  shown  how  our 

224 


THE  DECLARATION  OF  THE  REPUBLIC  OF  IRELAND 

arrets  in  1918  put  into  power  in  Ireland  a  body  of  men 
who  had  Struggled  for  that  power  before,  and  who  had 
not  regarded  with  extraordinary  enthusiasm  those  into 
whose  hands  it  had  been  placed  by  popular  vote.  I  am 
bound  to  say  that  I  had  never  suspected  that  it  would 
have  been  used  as  it  was  used.  Nobly,  courageously,  it 
was  used  in  all  matters  of  national  advantage;  but  not  so 
nobly,  not  so  courageously,  in  personal  matters. 

§2 

Indeed,  the  meaning  of  the  change  was  already 
apparent,  though  I  had  refused  to  see  it.  All  letters 
from  Ireland  had,  of  course,  to  be  guarded  and  allusive, 
but  one  had  learned  to  read  allusion  as  clear  as  a  primer, 
and  I  knew  that  all  those  who  were  of  what  I  may  call 
the  Griffith  school  were  marked  down  for  destruction. 
Now,  as  the  General  Election  of  December  came  forward, 
for  which  all  our  labours  for  two  years  had  been  but  a 
preparation,  tiiat  intention  became  only  too  clear;  and  as 
the  result,  and  particularly  the  methods  by  which  the 
result  was  attained,  were  to  mean  so  much  in  the  future, 
they  may  be  related  now  with  brevity,  yet  with  candour, 
as  they  fell  within  my  ov/n  experience. 

For  it  happened  that  the  assault  was  to  centre  most 
conspicuously  on  myself — so  conspicuously  as  to  make  it 
appear  that  I  must  have  been  guilty  of  not  less  than 
treachery — a  thought,  indeed,  to  which  many  did  come 
as  the  only  possible  explanation  of  what  occurred.  For 
before  our  arrests  I  had  been  invited  to  contest  certain 
constituencies  when  the  Election  occurred;  and  in  one 

225  Q 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

case  the  invitation  had  been  given  publicly  before  a  town- 
ship. But  now  that  the  I.R.B.  was  in  control  of  the  Sinn 
Fein  organization,  other  dispositions  were  being  made. 
For  I  had  twice  been  offered  the  I.R.B.  oath,  and  twice 
had  declined  it;  since  to  be  bound  by  an  oath  rather  than 
by  a  conviction  seemed  to  me  an  insult,  not  only  to  a 
man's  intelligence,  but  to  his  probity,  particularly  when 
that  oath  is  administered  by  a  secret  society.  Therefore, 
among  these  other  dispositions,  it  was  only  too  apparent 
that  I  was  to  be  completely  eliminated. 

It  would  be  idle  to  pretend  that  I  did  not  feel  chagrin 
at  being  passed  over  so  completely.  Our  mortal  flesh  is 
not  so  made;  and  even  Arthur  Griffith,  than  whom  I 
have  never  met  a  man  more  selfless,  might  have  felt  morti- 
fied at  so  public  a  rebuke.  And  I  held,  by  public  vote, 
a  position  of  high  responsibility  in  the  organization,  and 
was  in  gaol  because  of  that  responsibility.  But  I  chiefly 
felt  the  implication,  so  certain  to  be  drawn,  that  the  com- 
plete elimination  of  myself  was  due  to  some  offence  that 
I  must  have  committed,  and  when,  as  the  election  pro- 
ceeded, John  Dillon  at  Ballaghadereen  pointed  the  finger 
of  derision  at  so  marked  an  omission — why,  then  I 
avoided  even  my  comrades  at  Durham  and  kept  to  my- 
self. 

In  Durham  we  had  already  established  a  secret  post  in 
and  out  (even  to  parcels,  as  the  prison  authorities  may  be 
surprised  to  learn);  and  by  this  means  I  communicated 
with  my  wife,  asking  her  to  see  certain  of  my  friends 
in  the  country.  After  a  week  I  received  a  loaf  of  bread 
from  her,  home-baked,  so  the  inscription  ran,  for  my 
special  comfort.    This  I  bore  to  my  cell;  and,  cutting  it 

226 


THE  DECLARATION  OF  THE  REPUBLIC  OF  IRELAND 

open,  I  found  a  budget  of  documents  that  did  not  make 
happy  reading.  For  they  made  it  clear  that  the  omission 
was  being  carefully  and  skilfully  organized  from  within 
the  new  Sinn  Fein  Executive  by  the  I.R.B. — and,  let 
me  add,  that  Cathal  Brugha  had  sought  to  undo  what 
others  were  determined  to  achieve. 

These  things,  to  be  sure,  are  of  yesterday,  and  do  not 
now  gready  matter.  It  is  right,  however,  to  look  at  them 
Steadfastly,  for  they  show  die  subtle,  internal  machinery 
of  a  political  organization  working  behind  the  public, 
national  demonstration,  which  was  all  that  the  world 
saw  in  the  momentous  Election  of  December,  1918,  in 
Ireland.  But  at  the  time  it  made  me  feel  as  a  soldier 
might  feel  in  the  front  trenches  of  his  army  when  he 
finds  himself  sniped  from  his  own  supports.  It  was  not 
pleasant.  It  was  certainly  not  pleasant.  In  a  prison-cell 
at  44  degrees  Fahrenheit  it  was  most  unpleasant,  and 
calculated  to  put  the  iron  into  the  mind  and  to  bring 
it  to  rust  there. 

Solace  came,  however,  from  a  strange  quarter.  For  as 
I  tramped  my  cell  those  nights,  with  my  body  in  pain, 
and  my  mind  in  a  storm,  I  suddenly  sailed  into  quiet 
seas,  looking  out  on  waters  of  tranquil  harmony.  The 
change  began  by  my  attempting  one  night  to  recover 
one  of  the  melodies  from  Beethoven's  Symphonies,  and 
to  follow  it  through  all  its  subsequent  intricacies.  Night 
after  night,  then,  I  sought  to  bring  back  from  the 
chambers  of  memory  all  that  they  had  stored  of  melody 
and  harmony,  and  melody  breaking  into  harmony.  I 
went  through  all  Beethoven's  Symphonies  in  this  way, 
patiendy,  persistently;  and  it  was  strange  to  note  how 

227 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

some  of  the  motives  most  familiar  to  me  would  tease  the 
mind,  just  beyond  the  margin  of  recovery,  and  then  flood 
die  brain  like  the  vision  of  another  world.  I  remember, 
for  example,  for  nearly  a  week  seeking  to  recall  that 
perfect  melody  that  Brahms,  with  so  courageous  a 
gesture,  gives  to  the  'cello  to  open  a  movement  in  his 
Pianoforte  Concerto,  perfectly  colouring  it  to  that  instru- 
ment, sonorous  and  reposeful,  and  then,  as  it  falls  to  a 
close,  awakening  it  on  the  pianoforte  treble,  crisp  and 
clear,  before  it  passes  in  wave  on  wave,  blended  and 
combining  with  the  next  succeeding  theme,  over  the 
whole  orchestra.  For  nearly  a  week  it  defied  me;  and 
then,  when  it  was  recovered,  how  blessed  it  was,  with 
how  God-like  a  voice  it  breathed  power  and  repose  and 
peacefulness ! 

I  remember  my  next-cell  neighbour  (the  Gaelic  writer 
An  Seabhac)  asking  me  what  I  was  doing,  whistling  half 
the  night.  He  asked  me  more  in  wonder  than  vexation. 
But  I  whistled  more  softly  thereafter.  For  the  joy  of  my 
nightly  world  was  that  none  shared  it  with  me.  The 
sniping  from  the  rear  had  made  me  shy  of  my  fellow- 
men. 


§3 
The  national  result  of  the  General  Election,  however, 
was  what  chiefly  mattered.  And  as  I  in  gaol  read  the 
list  of  persons  returned  to  form  the  Dail  Eireann  (the 
Assembly  of  Ireland)  we  had  so  long  planned,  knowing 
most  of  them  and  hearing  of  others  from  my  comrades, 
it  was  plain  that  that  assembly  was  to  be  less  a  house  of 

228 


THE    DECLARATION    OF    THE    REPUBLIC    OF     IRELAND 

consideration  than  a  regiment  of  battle.  There  was  not 
a  member  of  it  but  would  do  his  duty,  whatever  the 
occasion;  but  most,  of  them  would  look  to  a  few  men  to 
know  what  that  duty  should  be.  The  greater  number 
were  members  of  the  I.R.B.  and  of  the  Volunteers;  and 
this  meant  the  very  result  that  Arthur  Griffith  had 
sought  to  avert.  It  meant  a  contest  less  for  liberty  than 
for  a  name;  it  meant  rigidity;  and  it  meant  the  shock 
of  violence  where  violence  might  conceivably  have  been 
avoided. 

Over  a  year  before,  in  the  great  struggle  between 
Arthur  Griffitii  and  Cathal  Brugha,  this  had  been  the 
issue.  Cathal  Brugha,  let  me  say  quite  candidly,  had 
had  nothing  to  do  with  the  skill  by  which  the  I.R.B.  had 
worked  the  Sinn  Fein  organization  in  the  Election;  there 
was  even  some  constraint  between  him  and  those  who 
controlled  the  I.R.B.;  but  he  was  resolute  now  to  take 
advantage  of  die  occasion  to  have  declared  before  the 
world  the  reality  that  existed  in  his  mind,  the  Republic 
of  Ireland.  Circumstance  had  made  him  now  the  victor; 
and  the  declaration  of  the  Republic  was  a  foregone  deci- 
sion by  that  very  fact. 

What  this  meant  is  important  to  note,  especially  in 
the  light  of  Griffith's  prescience.  Particularly  it  is  im- 
portant to  note  that  the  end  to  be  gained  was  not  in 
question.  For  nobody  doubted  that  at  that  time  the 
Irish  people  desired  a  republican  form  of  government, 
as  a  matter  of  political  preference  as  well  as  a  symbol 
of  freedom.  The  difference  was  on.  of  method,  of 
diplomatic  and  political  wisdom,  and  of  the  retention  of 
the  freedom  of  decision  to  the  end,  having  regard  to 

229 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

changing  circumstances;  and  it  was  in  these  matters  that 
Griffith's  foresight  was  approved. 

For  two  years  our  theme  had  been  that  Ireland  should 
claim  before  the  Peace  Conference  her  right  to  determine 
her  own  form  of  Government.  That  claim  had  been  in 
tune  with  the  professed  ideals  for  which  the  European 
War  was  being  fought  by  the  Allied  Powers;  and  it  was 
peculiarly  in  tune  v/ith  die  utterances  of  President  Wilson, 
utterances  which  rang  through  die  world  as  the  words  of 
no  man  have  in  history  been  known  to  ring,  but  quoted 
in  Ireland  as  though  they  had  been  devised  to  meet  her 
case.  Two  of  these  utterances  had  been  made  in  the 
closing  stages  of  that  war,  on  the  4th  of  July  and  on  the 
28th  of  September;  and  most  of  the  speeches  during  the 
Election  in  Ireland  had  been  built  out  of  this  theme. 
The  return  of  national  representatives  in  that  Election 
who  repudiated  the  British  Legislature,  for  which  they 
had  by  the  law  been  elected,  and  the  creation  by  them 
of  a  National  Assembly  sitting  in  Ireland,  ready  to  present 
the  national  case  before  the  nations  sitting  in  Peace  Con- 
ference, ready  also  to  make  a  frame  of  government  for 
the  people  of  Ireland,  carried  the  argument  of  two  years 
to  a  triumphant  end,  and  put  the  Irish  case  diplomatically 
in  a  position  of  great  strength. 

Yet  that  strength  depended  on  one  critical  considera- 
tion. It  depended  on  the  decision  not  being  taken  out  of 
the  hands  of  the  body  to  which  the  appeal  was  to  be 
made,  but  held  in  reserve  lest  that  body  declined  to 
attend  to  the  case  ready  to  be  formulated.  For  hardly, 
and  only  with  difficulty,  could  Great  Britain,  one  of  the 
most  powerful  and  conspicuous  members  of  that  Con- 

230 


THE    DECLARATION    OF    THE    REPUBLIC    OF    IRELAND 

ference,  object,  to  an  ancient  case  being  presented  there, 
as  long  as  the  decision  had  not  already  been  taken  in 
Ireland  before  the  appeal — as  long  as,  indeed,  judgment 
had  not  been  snatched  from  the  assembly  to  which  the 
appeal  was  to  be  made.  Such  an  objection  could  and 
might,  of  course,  have  been  made,  but  it  would  have 
looked  like  fear  of  the  result — and  it  is  the  first,  duty 
in  diplomacy  to  stimulate  an  opponent's  difficulties. 
The  mere  appearance  of  Ireland  there  could  not  of  it- 
self have  been  interpreted  as  prejudicial  to  her,  since 
the  case  would,  in  that  event,  have  still  been  under  judg- 
ment in  a  court  of  which  she  was  a  member.  And,  as 
regards  the  court  itself,  the  attitude  of  the  appellant 
would  have  been  one  of  deference  and  respect: — an  atti- 
tude in  all  courts  ever  beloved. 

On  the  other  hand,  to  declare  a  Republic  before  pro- 
ceeding to  Paris  would  have  been  to  snatch  the  very 
judgment  in  hope  of  which  the  court  was  to  be  prayed. 
It  was,  in  fact,  the  policy  of  the  accomplished  fact;  and 
that  policy,  as  every  student  of  history  knows,  is  only 
possible  with  a  first-class  power  of  great  strength,  or  with 
a  lesser  power  geographically  difficult  to  strike.  Even 
then  it  is  resented.  No  body,  sitting  presumably  as  a 
court  of  investigation,  and  ostensibly  acknowledged  as 
such,  likes  to  be  treated  as  a  place  where  decisions,  taken 
outside  its  processes,  may,  if  not  must,  be  registered.  It 
is  to  ride  atilt,  not  only  against  an  abused  diplomacy,  but 
even  against  a  still  more  abused  human  nature.  In 
addition  to  this,  it  was  to  present  the  most  interested 
member  of  die  court  with  the  opportunity  of  saying  to 
his  brethren  that  if  Ireland  were  permitted  audience,  such 

231 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

permission  would  be  tantamount  to  a  recognition  of  an 
Irish  Republic,  and  that  any  such  recognition,  without 
inquiry,  must  be  interpreted  as  an  affront  to  Great 
Britain.  In  that  case,  Ireland's  very  friends  there, 
supposing  she  had  them,  would  be  turned  from  defenders 
into  apologists — an  unlucky  and  disastrous  change — and 
her  chance  of  finding  her  way  there  at  all  to  present  a 
case  would  be  small  indeed.  How  could  she  demand 
inquiry  into  her  case  for  independence  when  to  hear  her 
at  all  meant  the  recognition  of  her  as  an  independent 
State?  It  was  to  present  the  Peace  Conference  (even  if  it 
were  a  court  of  the  most  angelic  impartiality)  with  an 
impossible  dilemma. 

So  my  thoughts  went  to  and  fro  in  my  cell  in  Durham 
— as  they  have  often  gone  to  and  fro  since,  in  reflecting 
whether  our  policy  of  that  time  could  have  been  made 
to  yield  a  better  result.  It  was  clear  (to  me  at  least)  that 
if  the  lines  of  Griffith's  policy  had  been  followed,  as  they 
had  been  accepted  before  our  arrests,  this  impossible 
dilemma  would  have  been  avoided.  And  according  to 
that  policy,  had  the  appeal  to  the  Peace  Conference  failed 
— heard  or  unheard — a  Republic  could  still  have  been 
declared.  Such  a  declaration,  following  on  a  failure, 
instead  of  preceding  and  creating  it,  and  made  while  the 
Conference  was  actually  in  session,  would  have  made  a 
greater  effect  internationally;  and  the  great  value  would 
have  been  gained,  that  Ireland  would  have  secured  free- 
dom of  movement  and  of  decision  to  the  last  moment. 
No  one  knew  Arthur  Griffith  but  knew  that  it  was  for 
this  very  freedom  he  had  struggled — as  he  had,  after 
three  years  of  warfare,  to  win  it  again  by  bringing  the 

232 


THE    DECLARATION    OF    THE    REPUBLIC    OF     IRELAND 

nation  back  to  the  position  in  which  he  originally  had 
stood.  But  Griffith  was  in  Gloucester  Gaol;  and  Cathal 
Brugha  was  in  Dublin  widi  a  Republic  as  clear  before 
his  eyes  as  the  sun  in  heaven;  and  Michael  Collins  had 
got  an  Assembly  of  Ireland  that  could  be  trussed  to 
confirm  die  decisions  of  the  Irish  Republican  Brother- 
hood, and  to  endure  all  terrors  in  their  defence. 


§4 
Thus  it  happened  that  the  vital  condition  essential  to 
the  success  of  Griffith's  policy  was  thrown  away.  In  the 
first,  place,  the  British  Government  had  removed  Griffith 
himself,  and  all  those  who  had  been  chosen  with  him  by 
the  October  Convention  in  support  of  his  policy — includ- 
ing Eamon  de  Valera,  who  at  that  time  was  content  to 
be  guided  by  Griffith.  In  die  second  place,  a  further 
purge  had  been  made  by  those  who  now  controlled  the 
I.R.B. — and  through  the  I.R.B.  controlled  Sinn  Fein; 
by  sending  representatives  to  be  present  at  all  Sinn  Fein 
Conventions  for  the  choice  of  candidates,  arranging 
identical  dates  for  Conventions  in  different  constituencies, 
and  giving  each  to  believe  that  the  name  or  names  desired 
by  it  were  that  day  to  be  chosen  by  some  other;  and  by 
other  adroit  devices — with  the  result  that  a  substantial 
majority  of  the  newly  created  national  Parliament  was 
ready  to  move  to  the  word  of  command.  And  that  word 
of  command  was  predestined  and  inherent  in  the  circum- 
stances to  be  the  instant  declaration  of  the  Republic.  For 
those  who  spake  that  word  looked  less  to,  and  thought 
less  of,  the  nations  in  assembly  dian  the  deliberate  crea- 

233 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

tion  of  disorder  and  the  appeal  to  "physical  force,"  as 
the  phrase  then  ran. 

For  this  was  the  meaning  of  the  news  borne  to  us  by 
the  papers  that  came  from  Ireland.  They  announced 
that  all  the  national  representatives  available  had  met  in 
solemn  assembly  as  Dail  Eireann  in  the  Mansion  House, 
Dublin,  on  the  21st  of  January,  1919.  The  roll  had  been 
called  of  the  representatives  returned  in  all  Ireland,  but 
some  of  these  were  in  gaol,  and  others,  opposed  to  Sinn 
Fein,  whether  of  the  old  Parliamentary  Party  or  Unionists 
north  and  south,  were  absent.  One  of  the  few  remaining 
copies  of  the  original  published  proceedings  (entitled  in 
Irish,  Irish  Dail  Eireann)  lies  before  me  as  I  write;  and 
there  it  appears  that  a  brief  temporary  Constitution  in 
five  articles  was  moved  and  adopted  in  Irish.  The  first 
article  declared  that  of  the  deputies  elected  by  the  Irish 
people  from  the  constituencies  that  then  existed,  Dail 
Eireann  should  be  constituted,  with  full  powers  to  make 
laws.  The  second  created  a  Premier-Minister  (not,  be  it 
noted,  a  President :  for  the  Irish  word  is  Priomh-Aire,  of 
which  the  interpretation  is  Premier-Minister),  and  four 
other  Ministries — namely,  for  Finance,  for  Home 
Affairs,  for  Foreign  Affairs,  and  for  Defence.  The 
second  created  a  chairman  of  Dail  Eireann,  under  the 
name  of  Ceann  Comhairle,  meaning  Head  of  the 
Council,  a  name  he  still  bears.  The  fourth  made  the 
Minister  for  Finance  strictly  accountable,  in  manner 
defined,  to  Dail  Eireann.  And  the  fifth  declared  this 
Constitution  to  be  of  a  temporary  nature,  stating  the 
procedure  by  which  it  might  be  changed. 

All  these  things  were  wise  and  essential.     But  now 

234 


THE    DECLARATION    OF    THE    REPUBLIC    OF     IRELAND 

followed  the  famous  Declaration  of  Independence — a 
right  and  proper  prelude  to  war,  but  not  right  (as  I 
thought)  or  proper  as  a  prelude  to  an  appeal  to  a  World's 
Congress.  This  declaration  is  generally  referred  to  as 
the  declaration  of  the  Republic;  but  the  wording  adopted, 
in  Irish,  French,  and  English,  speaks  deliberately  of  the 
ratification  of  die  declaration  of  the  Republic  already 
made  as  the  prelude  to  the  Easier  Rising. 

Let  me,  in  candour,  repeat  that  the  misgiving  in  my 
mind  existed  purely  in  regard  to  procedure,  not  in  regard 
to  the  end  to  be  sought.  In  the  mind  of  none  of  us  at 
that  time  (except,  perhaps,  Arthur  Griffith)  was  there 
question  of  the  intention  to  establish  a  Republic.  But 
the  next  act  of  the  Assembly  was  to  appoint  three  Envoys 
to  lay  die  case  of  Ireland  before  the  Peace  Conference, 
Eamon  de  Valera,  Arthur  Griffith,  and  Count  Plunkett; 
and  how,  I  asked  myself,  would  Envoys  petition  a  Con- 
gress to  investigate  the  case  made  by  their  nation  for 
independence,  when  their  mere  reception  would  imply 
that  the  Congress  had  already  received  them  in  the  name 
of  an  independent  State,  proclaimed  and  established? 

Obviously,  those  who  had  decided  on  this  procedure 
had  perceived  this  difficulty.  This  is  manifest  on  the 
face  of  the  official  "  Proceedings."  For  the  next  act  of 
the  Assembly  was  to  adopt  a  "  Message  to  the  Free 
Nations  of  the  World";  and  the  first  paragraph  of  this 
'  message  "  read  :  '  The  Nation  of  Ireland  having  pro- 
claimed her  national  independence,  calls  through  her 
elected  representatives  in  Parliament  assembled  in  the 
Irish  capital  on  the  21st  of  January,  1919,  upon  every  free 
nation   to   support   the   Irish   Republic   by   recognizing 

235 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

Ireland's  national  status  and  her  right  to  its  vindication 
at  the  Peace  Congress."  The  "  message  "  then  proceeded 
to  recite  the  arguments  in  favour  of  that  recognition,  and 
appealed,  not  only  on  the  inherent  justice  of  the  national 
claim,  but  to  the  self-interest  of  other  nations.  And,  so 
framed,  it  was  clearly  an  attempt  to  avert  the  difficulty 
that  had  already  been  created;  but,  in  spite  of  the  great 
dignity  with  which  it  was  made,  it  could  hardly  hope  to 
succeed.  For  hardly  would  the  free  nations  of  the  world 
be  expected  to  give  their  official  recognition  to  an  act  so 
hostile  to  a  great  Power  like  Great  Britain,  though  they 
might  have  been  asked,  reasonably  and  without  prejudice, 
to  investigate  a  national  claim — and  that  of  itself  would 
have  been  a  notable  advance. 

Therefore  I  was  troubled.  I  was  troubled  personally 
as  well  as  nationally;  for  I  had  so  often  taken  a  different 
line  from  my  colleagues  that  I  feared  to  do  so  again, 
especially  on  so  grave  an  issue,  and  especially  when  I  had 
so  summarily  been  dismissed  from  position  and  responsi- 
bility. Any  action  of  that  sort  would  leave  them  even 
more  deeply  angered  with  me,  and  leave  me  even  more 
desolate,  a  pariah  among  politicals  and  an  outcast  among 
friends.  More  profoundly  than  ever  I  regretted  that  I 
had  left  my  books,  where  at  least  a  man's  integrity  could 
remain  inviolate.  Honour,  however,  derives  not  from 
circumstance  or  consideration;  and  honour  dictated  only 
one  possible  course.  The  decision  that  had  been  taken 
would  lead  assuredly  into  the  thickest  of  difficulties,  and 
possibly  into  war;  but  it  had  been  taken  by  a  national 
Parliament,  properly  elected  by  the  people  to  undertake 
all  responsibility.     We  were  all  bound  by  it;  I  could  do 

236 


THE    DECLARATION    OF    THE    REPUBLIC    OF     IRELAND 

no  other  than  Stand  by  it  and,  whatever  befell,  uphold 
it  and  serve  it  faithfully  among  the  rank  and  file.  And  I 
was  resolved  to  give  such  service  to  the  utmost  of  my 
ability. 

§5 

Other  causes  of  distress  I  had  during  these  unfortunate 
weeks.  It  will  be  recalled  diat  at  this  time  the  epidemic 
known  as  poSt-war  influenza  raged  in  Europe,  causing 
many  deaths;  and  after  Christmas  I  learned  that  my  wife 
had  fallen  to  it.  I  had  not  seen  her  since  my  arrest  the 
previous  May;  and  as  the  days  passed  I  learned  that  her 
illness  was  so  grave  as  to  put  her  life  in  danger.  I 
applied,  therefore,  at  once  for  parole;  and  the  only  result 
of  my  application  was  to  cause  a  detective  in  Dublin  to 
burst  his  way  forcibly  into  her  sick-room  to  discover 
whether  what  I  had  said  was  true.  But  no  parole  was 
granted;  and  as  all  letters  from  home  had  first  to  go  to 
London  to  be  censored,  at  least  three  days  intervened 
before  I  could  hear  of  her  state. 

Finally,  towards  the  end  of  February  I  received  a  tele- 
gram that,  while  she  lay  ill,  my  home  had  been  burnt. 
Again  I  applied  for  parole;  and  this  time,  as  a  fire  was 
too  public  a  fact  to  be  questioned,  the  parole  was  granted. 
And  thus  I  returned  to  Ireland. 

A  few  days  after  my  return  I  received  a  letter  by 
our  secret  post  saying  that  the  epidemic  had  broken  out 
in  Durham  Gaol,  that  the  men  had  refused  to  be  removed 
to  hospital,  and  lay  in  their  cells.  I  was  urged  to  make 
the  facts  public  in  the  Press.  To  do  this  meant  to  strain 
the  conditions  of  my  parole,  and  to  that  extent  to  put  it 

237 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

in  jeopardy;  but  it  so  chanced  that  the  publicity  was  most 
opportune.  For  news  came  that  the  epidemic  had  also 
broken  out  in  Gloucester  Gaol,  and  that  our  men  there 
were  being  removed  to  a  hospital  outside  the  gaol,  some 
of  them  in  peril  of  their  lives.  Publicity  as  to  these  facts, 
accompanied  by  intimate  details  regarding  the  conditions 
in  die  gaols,  raised,  therefore,  the  whole  question  of  our 
imprisonment,  a  question  that,  it  had  been  thought,  could 
by  iron  silence  be  kept  out  of  sight. 

Afterwards  I  learned  of  an  incident  of  the  epidemic  in 
Gloucester  Gaol  that  is  worthy  of  record.  For  there  the 
leadership  and  direction  had  naturally  fallen  to  Arthur 
Griffith,  and  it  was  he  who  had  caused  the  removal  of 
the  sick  men  to  a  hospital  outside  the  gaol,  knowing  that, 
once  they  had  so  been  removed,  they  could  not  be  brought 
back  without  rearrest.  In  the  midst  of  this,  however,  he 
himself  fell  ill.  But  he  took  prompt  measures  with  his 
illness.  He  got  a  bottle  of  quinine,  and  all  one  night, 
whenever  he  awoke  in  fever,  he  took  a  "  pull "  (as  he 
himself  described  it  to  me)  at  his  bottle.  And  in  the 
morning  he  found  that  the  bottle  was  empty,  and  that 
the  epidemic  had  fled  before  his  attack. 

Others  were  not  so  fortunate.  Before  my  parole  had 
expired  the  news  came  of  the  death  of  Piaras  McCann. 
And  thus  the  prison  gates  were  opened  by  the  hand  of  a 
dead  man.  For  it  was  not  possible,  now,  to  hold  men  in 
gaol,  seeing  that  the  hand  of  death  had  felt  among  them, 
and  the  original  cause  of  their  arrests,  unbelieved  from 
the  first,  had  passed  out  of  sight.  Therefore,  one  morn- 
ing, in  the  streets  of  Dublin,  within  a  few  hundred  yards 
three  detectives  ("  G  "  men)  stopped  me  to  say  that  they 

238 


THE    DECLARATION    OF    THE    REPUBLIC    OF     IRELAND 

were  intruded  to  inform  me  that  I  need  not  return  to 
Durham,  that  my  parole  was  returned  to  me.  I  guessed 
that  this  meant  a  general  liberation,  but  as  I  would  not 
converse  with  them  I  could  not  ask  them;  and  so  I  wrote 
instead  to  Dublin  Castle  to  say  that  unless  the  return  of 
my  parole  meant  the  freedom  of  all  my  colleagues  I 
declined  to  accept  it,  but  would  travel  to  Durham  in  two 
days  as  I  had  originally  intended  to  do.  But  my  stiffness 
of  back  was  needless.  On  the  morning  of  the  day  I  had 
resolved  to  return  the  first  company  of  the  liberated 
prisoners  arrived.  They  were  headed  by  one  of  the  most 
lovable  of  all  our  comrades,  Piaras  McCann,  a  squire's 
son  from  Tipperary,  dead,  in  a  coffin.  Of  that  first 
company  was  Arthur  Griffith,  and  the  following  day  the 
rest  arrived.  And  so  ended  the  German  Plot,  which 
opened  with  the  intrigue  of  an  English  politician  and 
closed  with  the  death  of  one  of  the  noblest  of  men. 


§6 

On  my  return  from  gaol  I  had  not  visited  our  head- 
quarters. Partly  this  was  owing  to  my  parole,  by  which 
I  was  pledged  to  take  no  part  in  political  action  while  in 
Ireland,  and  which  I  kept  even  to  that  extreme.  Partly 
it  was  owing  to  the  necessity  of  getting  my  home  into 
repair.  But  in  no  little  measure  it  was  due  to  an  extreme 
aversion  to  meeting  any  of  the  men  now  in  control  there. 
The  only  one  I  had  seen  was  Cathal  Brugha,  who  had 
sent  me  a  message  desiring  me  to  see  him.  Him  I  had 
seen  at  his  house;  and,  though  a  man  of  few  words,  he 

239 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

told  me  that  he  had  seen  what  had  been  passing,  but  that 
he  had  been  powerless  to  change  events. 

It  was  at  this  meeting  I  saw  for  the  first  time  the 
personal  hostility  between  him  and  Michael  Collins  that 
was  afterwards  to  bring  Collins  to  the  side  of  Arthur 
Griffith,  and  to  change  the  whole  course  of  Irish  history. 
And,  strange  irony,  when  that  happened  I  was  found 
fighting  the  batde  of  the  Treaty  beside  Michael  Collins, 
while  Cathal  Brugha  fought  against  us  with  all  the 
furious  intensity  of  which  his  character  was  compact. 
But  I  do  not  forget,  and  shall  not  forget,  his  gesture  of 
friendliness  when  I  returned  to  Ireland  shunning  all  my 
colleagues. 

Now,  however,  all  the  men  were  back  from  gaol,  and 
the  first  to  come  to  see  me  was  Arthur  Griffith.  By  this 
time  I  was  back  upon  my  literary  work,  and  I  was  ill- 
disposed  to  leave  it  again,  even  under  his  persuasion.  It 
is  strange,  and  most  pleasing,  to  reflect  that  I  should  have 
held  the  friendship  of  both  these  men,  in  each  of  whom 
so  little  of  sympathy  should  exist  for  the  other.  Not  only 
did  they  contend  against  each  other  from  opposite  ends 
of  policy,  but  by  temperament  they  mutually  and  com- 
pletely repelled  one  another.  Each  of  them,  indeed, 
found  it  difficult  to  make  friendships  at  all.  The  more 
pleasing,  therefore,  the  more  valuable,  I  found  their  hand 
of  friendship  on  this  occasion.  But  when  I  went  to  head- 
quarters with  Griffith  the  attitude  of  those  now  in  control 
there  was  so  hostile  that  I  was  not  tempted  to  put  my  boat 
again  into  those  waters. 

Within  a  few  days,  however,  an  event  occurred  that 
brought  us  all  again  into  the  arena  of  conflict,  and  in- 

240 


THE    DECLARATION    OF    THE    REPUBLIC    OF    IRELAND 

deed  nearly  brought  the  country  to  a  calamity.  For  at 
that  time  Eamon  de  Valera  was  in  hiding  in  Dublin. 
Prior  to  the  elections  the  previous  December  he  had, 
with  Sean  McGarry  and  Sean  Milroy,  escaped  from 
Lincoln.  Since  then  he  had  been  in  hiding  in  England, 
and  about  the  time  of  the  general  liberation  from  gaol 
he  had  secretly  made  his  way  into  Ireland.  The  general 
liberation,  however,  did  not  affect  him;  or  at  least  it  had 
been  assumed  diat  it  did  not  affect  him;  and  he  had  there- 
fore continued  in  hiding  in  one  of  the  suburbs  of  Dublin, 
awaiting  a  favourable  moment  to  emerge.  And  it  was 
decided  to  make  that  emergence  a  dramatic  one,  thereby 
throwing  a  challenge  in  the  face  of  Dublin  Castle. 

For  on  Saturday,  the  22nd  of  March,  the  following 
announcement  appeared  in  the  Press : 

'  President  de  Valera  will  arrive  in  Ireland  on  Wednes- 
day evening  next,  the  26th  instant,  and  the  Executive  of 
Dail  Eireann  will  offer  him  a  national  welcome.  It  is 
expected  that  the  home-coming  of  de  Valera  will  be  an 
occasion  of  national  rejoicing,  and  full  arrangements  will 
be  made  for  marshalling  the  procession.  The  Lord 
Mayor  of  Dublin  will  receive  him  at  the  gates  of  die 
city,  and  will  escort  him  to  the  Mansion  House,  where 
he  will  deliver  a  message  to  the  Irish  people.  All 
organizations  and  bands  wishing  to  participate  in  the 
demonstration  should  apply  to  6,  Harcourt  Street,  on 
Monday,  die  24th  instant,  up  to  6  p.m. 

"  H.    BOLAND, 

T.  Kelly. 


1  Hon.  Sees. 


Not   since   Queen  Victoria   had   paid  her  State   visit 
to  Dublin  in  1900  had  such  a  State  entry  at  the  gates 

241  R 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

of  the  city  been  made.  The  present  announcement  there- 
fore compelled  a  comparison  with  that  event.  It  meant, 
of  course,  that  de  Valera  would  enter  as  the  official  head 
of  an  established  and  independent  State.  No  one  was, 
therefore,  surprised  when  Dublin  was  at  once  placarded 
with  an  official  Proclamation  prohibiting  all  meetings 
and  processions  in  the  city. 

Thus  was  the  challenge  made,  and  thus  was  it 
answered.  If  the  original  arrangements  were  continued, 
undoubtedly  blood  would  be  shed;  and  not  the  blood 
only  of  the  Volunteers,  who  were  prepared  to  undertake 
that  risk,  but  the  blood  of  innocent  citizens  who  would 
go  to  the  scene  as  sight-seers.  The  alternative  was  to  with- 
draw the  decision  to  hold  such  a  national  reception,  and 
to  make  a  further  announcement  to  that  effect.  Neither 
alternative  was  pleasant.  Yet  of  the  two,  honour  clearly 
dictated  the  retraction  of  the  announcement,  for  it  would 
have  been  criminal  to  have  enticed  crowds  of  sight-seers 
to  what  might  for  them  be  a  shambles. 

Early  on  Monday  morning  a  courier  brought  me  a 
summons  stating  that  both  Executives  (the  old  Executive 
that  had  been  arrested,  now  at  liberty,  and  the  new  Execu- 
tive that  had  been  elected  in  its  place)  were  to  meet  at 
once  to  consider  the  situation.  So  we  met  at  noon,  with 
Arthur  Griffith  in  the  chair.  I  had  not  much  desired  to 
go;  but  since  I  was  there  I  was  resolved  to  speak  my 
min  1  T  ih^refore  asked  to  see  the  minute  of  the  Execu- 
tive on  which  the  Honorary  Secretaries  had  based  their 
announcement,  purporting  to  be  official.  After  some 
fencing  it  was  elicited  that  there  was  no  such  minute, 
and  that  the  question  had  never  come  before  the  Execu- 

242 


THE    DECLARATION    OF    THE    REPUBLIC    OF     IRELAND 

tive.  I  therefore  asked  Alderman  Tom  Kelly  on  what 
audiority  he,  as  one  of  the  signatories,  had  attached  his 
name  as  secretary;  and  he  answered  with  characteristic 
bluntness  that,  in  point  of  fact,  he  had  never  seen  the 
announcement,  and  had  not  known  of  it,  till  he  read  it 
in  the  Press. 

Then,  in  the  midst  of  the  tangled  discussion  that  fol- 
lowed these  disclosures,  Michael  Collins  rose.  Character- 
istically, he  swept  aside  all  pretences,  and  said  that  the 
announcement  had  been  written  by  him,  and  that  the 
decision  to  make  it  had  been  made,  not  by  Sinn  Fein, 
though  declared  in  its  name,  but  by  "  the  proper  body, 
the  Irish  Volunteers."  He  spoke  with  much  vehemence 
and  emphasis,  saying  that  die  sooner  fighting  was  forced 
and  a  general  state  of  disorder  created  through  the 
country  (his  words  in  this  connection  are  too  well  printed 
on  my  memory  ever  to  be  forgotten),  the  better  it  would 
be  for  the  country.  Ireland  was  likely  to  get  more  out  of 
a  state  of  general  disorder  than  from  a  continuance  of  the 
situation  as  it  then  stood.  The  proper  people  to  take 
decisions  of  that  kind  were  ready  to  face  the  British 
military,  and  were  resolved  to  force  the  issue.  And  they 
were  not  to  be  deterred  by  weaklings  and  cowards.  For 
himself  he  accepted  full  responsibility  for  the  announce- 
ment, and  he  told  the  meeting  with  forceful  candour  tiiat 
he  held  them  in  no  opinion  at  all,  that,  in  fact,  they  were 
only  summoned  to  confirm  what  the  proper  people  had 
decided. 

He  had  always  a  truculent  manner,  but  in  such  situa- 
tions he  was  certainly  candour  itself.  As  I  looked  on 
him  while  he  spoke,  for  all  the  hostility  between  us,  I 

243 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

found  something  refreshing  and  admirable  in  his  con- 
tempt of  us  all.  His  brow  was  gathered  in  a  thunderous 
frown,  and  his  chin  thrust  forward,  while  he  emphasized 
his  points  on  the  back  of  a  chair  with  heavy  strokes  of 
his  hand.  He  was  a  great  foeman  when  he  fought  thus 
— a  worthier  foeman  than  when  he  manipulated  organ- 
izations. But,  by  his  contempt  of  his  audience,  he  had 
touched  the  combative  in  Griffith.  I  had  hardly  begun 
that  if  it  were  to  be  a  weakling  and  coward  to  wish  to 
avert  a  shambles  of  unarmed  citizens,  caught  between 
two  bodies  of  armed  men,  then  I  confessed  myself  both 
weakling  and  coward  with  a  certain  measure  of  pride, 
when  Griffith  rose  to  his  feet.  Tapping  the  table  before 
him  with  the  pencil  in  his  hand,  he  said  that  the  decision 
was  one  to  be  taken  by  the  meeting  there,  and  by  no 
other  body.  He  himself  was  strongly  opposed  to  the 
arrangements  that  had  been  made,  but  he  would  accept 
the  decision  of  that  meeting.  He  would  not  accept  the 
decision  of  any  other  body. 

For  two  hours  the  debate  raged  fiercely,  and 
O'Connell's  weakness  at  Clontarf  was  invoked  to  awe 
those  of  us  who  desired  the  cancellation  of  the  "  occasion 
of  national  rejoicing" — that  looked  as  if  it  would  turn 
to  an  occasion  of  national  mourning.  Finally  it  was 
decided  that  Griffith  should  see  de  Valera,  and  that  he 
should  report  the  result  of  his  interview  to  the  meeting, 
which  stood  adjourned  till  eight  at  night.  In  effect  that 
of  itself  was  a  decision,  for  Griffith  was  not  the  man  to 
return  till,  on  a  question  so  grave,  he  held  the  decision 
his  own  judgment  approved.  And  so  it  proved  to  be. 
In  the  name  of  de  Valera  it  was  announced  in  the  follovv- 

244 


THE    DECLARATION    OF    THE    REPUBLIC    OF     IRELAND 

ing  morning's  Press  that  the  occasion  was  not  one  on 
which  he  would  call  the  people  to  incur  any  danger,  and 
that  the  public  reception  would  therefore  be  abandoned. 
The  little  part  I  played  in  this  episode,  however,  filled 
my  pot  of  sins  to  the  full,  and  we  were  approaching  a 
dread  assembly  of  judgment.  For  on  our  releases  a 
new  Convention  (or  Ard-Fheis)  of  Sinn  Fein  had  been 
summoned.  At  that  Convention  a  new  Officer  Board  was 
to  be  elected,  and  the  names  of  all  the  original  officers, 
who  had  been  arrested  the  year  before  and  those  who 
had  acted  in  our  place  while  we  had  been  in  gaol,  were 
to  be  put  to  its  vote. 

I  was  warned  that  the  I.R.B.  was  resolved  to  give  the 
final  stroke  to  my  political  extinction  at  this  Convention. 
Indeed  no  disguise  of  this  intention  was  attempted,  for 
Boland  warned  me  that  I  would  soon  be  heard  of  no 
more  in  Sinn  Fein.  I  was  also  kept  apprised  of  the 
methods  being  adopted  to  secure  this  result,  and  they  have 
an  interest  more  important  than  the  merely  transitory  and 
personal,  for  they  reveal  a  movement  that  underlay  much 
of  the  dramatic  happenings  of  the  succeeding  years,  and 
exhibit  how  easy  it  is  to  manipulate  political  organiza- 
tions so  as  to  make  them,  with  all  the  appearance  of 
freedom  and  finality,  the  mere  agents  of  skilful  intrigue. 

The  method  adopted  in  this  case  was  to  work  through 
those  members  of  die  Volunteers  who  were  sworn 
members  of  the  I.R.B.  and  held  important  commands  in 
their  areas.  These  were  called  to  Dublin,  and  were 
instructed  to  see  that  their  men  secured  appointment  as 
delegates  to  the  Convention,  and,  as  most  of  the  elder 
men  during  the  past  year  had  either  stepped  aside  or  had 

245 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

been  put  aside,  this  was  easy  to  do.  All  these  tickets 
were  then  collected,  and  the  Sunday  before  the  Conven- 
tion were  brought  to  Dublin,  a  Gaelic  Athletic  Associa- 
tion meeting  being  held  on  that  day  to  give  occasion  for 
their  journey.  Those  who  remained  for  the  Convention 
on  the  Tuesday  acted  as  delegates,  though  few  of  them 
were  members  of  the  Cumainn  they  purported  to  repre- 
sent; the  tickets  of  the  others  were  transferred  to  members 
of  the  Brotherhood  living  in  Dublin.  And  to  them  all 
typed  instructions  how  to  vote  v/ere  given. 

One  of  those  who  received  these  instructions  afterwards 
described  the  procedure  to  me.  On  arrival  at  the  Mansion 
House,  as  desired  by  the  Brotherhood,  on  the  morning 
of  the  Convention,  he  was  shown  into  a  separate  room. 
There  a  number  of  others  were  already  present,  and  were 
being  given  delegates'  tickets  from  a  large  pile  on  a  table 
by  a  prominent  member  of  the  Brotherhood  who  now 
holds  high  command  in  the  Army.  In  his  turn  he, 
too,  was  given  a  ticket  with  a  typed  paper  containing 
instructions.  These  instructions  he  did  not  observe,  and 
no  doubt  there  were  others  who  exercised  their  own 
judgments.  But  as  I  sat  with  the  Praesidium  looking 
down  at  the  Convention,  it  was  obvious  to  anyone  who 
knew  the  movement  in  Dublin  that  only  a  small 
percentage  of  it  consisted  of  delegates  from  the  country. 
One  of  the  members  of  the  Praesidium  (it  happened  to 
be  the  very  person  whom  Arthur  Griffith  had  chosen  to 
ask  the  question  concerning  the  secret  voting  "list"  at 
the  Convention  of  October,  191 7)  came  to  my  side  in  great 
indignation  to  say  that  of  his  personal  knowledge  he 
recognized  the  mass  of  those  present  as  men  who  lived  in 

246 


THE    DECLARATION    OF    THE    REPUBLIC    OF     IRELAND 

Dublin,  members  of  the  I.R.B.  and  the  Volunteers,  not 
members  of  Sinn  Fein,  but  rather  holding  Sinn  Fein  and 
all  its  political  doings  in  steady  contempt. 

Beyond  doubt,  great  organization  and  tireless  energy 
were  required  to  produce  this  result.  It  was  the  negation 
of  all  freedom,  of  course,  and  utterly  corrupt,  but  it  was 
completely  successful.  Incidentally,  also,  it  strangled 
Sinn  Fein,  for  from  this  moment  it  began  to  decline 
until  it  finally  disappeared  two  years  later.  This  was  but 
natural,  for  the  strength  of  Sinn  Fein  was  that  it  gathered 
together  and  expressed  the  mind  of  a  people,  and  when 
it  became  merely  the  register  for  a  little  group  of  men, 
it  was  withdrawn  from  its  constituents,  from  its  life, 
rather,  and  fell  into  decay.  But  at  the  time  the  intrigue 
carried  all  before  it.  So  far  as  it  affected  myself,  the  vote 
I  received  was  insignificant,  and  Harry  Boland  took  my 
place  as  Honorary  Secretary,  with  Austin  Stack,  another 
of  the  same  group,  as  colleague. 

As  I  left  the  great  hall,  the  Convention  over,  I  was 
suddenly  stopped  by  a  strange  sight.  Behind  one  of  the 
statues  with  which  it  is  surrounded  stood  Michael  Collins 
and  Harry  Boland.  Their  arms  were  about  one  another, 
their  heads  bowed  on  one  another's  shoulders,  and  diey 
were  shaking  with  laughter.  They  did  not  see  me. 
Their  thoughts  were  with  their  triumph.  Little  any  of 
us  knew,  then,  that  in  three  years  both  these  two  men, 
locked  in  one  another's  arms  sharing  a  common  triumph, 
would  lie  dead,  each  slain  by  the  other's  agents.  Who 
will  say  that  Life,  and  Time  for  servant,  are  not  master- 
ironists,  pitiless  in  their  mockery? 


247 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 


§7 
In  the  meantime  the  international  scene  was  being  set 
for  failure.  The  problem  was,  how  to  get  our 
Plenipotentiaries  to  Paris.  For  it  was  certain  that  the 
British  Government  would  not  issue  passports  for  them. 
Not  easily  could  it  have,  with  dignity,  refused  had  envoys 
been  appointed  to  pray  investigation  into  Ireland's  case 
for  independence,  but  when  those  envoys,  by  the  terms 
of  their  appointment,  claimed  to  act  as  Plenipotentiaries 
of  an  existing,  independent  republic,  not  one  nation  could 
demur  to  the  refusal  of  passports  by  Great  Britain.  Nor 
could  such  Plenipotentiaries,  in  dignity,  attempt  to  get 
to  Paris  otherwise  than  publicly.  The  problem  seemed 
unanswerable.     But  it  happened  that  chance  was  kind. 

For  in  December,  1918,  President  Woodrow  Wilson 
had  visited  England,  and  had  been  accorded  public  re- 
ceptions in  leading  English  cities.  At  once  the  Dublin 
Corporation  invited  him  to  Ireland.  Whether  that  invita- 
tion was  stopped  in  the  post  or  was  inconvenient  to 
acknowledge  will  probably  never  be  known,  but  it  was 
not  answered,  and  President  Wilson  proceeded  to  Paris 
without  coming  to  Ireland.  It  was  stated  in  his  behalf 
that  no  such  invitation  was  ever  received  by  him,  and  the 
Dublin  Corporation,  expressing  its  sorrow  at  this  un- 
fortunate circumstance,  resolved  to  send  one  of  its 
members  to  Paris  to  convey  personally  to  the  President  its 
felicitations  and  affection.  For  this  purpose  Councillor 
Scan  T.  O'Kelly  was  chosen.  Now  Sean  T.  O'Kelly 
was  a  member  of  Dail  Eireann,  and  its  Chairman  withal. 

248 


THE    DECLARATION    OF    THE    REPUBLIC    OF    IRELAND 

As  an  envoy  from  a  statutory  body  like  the  Dublin  Cor- 
poration he  could  hardly  be  denied  passports.  Indeed, 
such  a  denial  would  be  a  discourtesy  to  President  Wilson. 
But,  once  in  Paris,  that  envoy,  with  diplomatic  skill  and 
wisdom,  could  have  done  much  to  advance  the  case  of 
Ireland  there. 

Unhappily,  that  skill  and  wisdom  were  wanting.  As 
the  messenger  of  affection  and  felicitations  from  so  august. 
a  body  as  the  Dublin  Corporation  President  Wilson  must, 
have  seen  Sean  T.  O'Kelly,  and  the  matters  discussed  at 
such  a  meeting  lay  within  the  ambit  of  an  envoy's  adroit- 
ness. Instead  of  this  the  envoy's  first  act  on  arrival  in 
Paris  was  to  say  no  more  of  die  Dublin  Corporation  (his 
best,  indeed  his  only,  cover),  but  to  write  a  pompous 
letter  to  the  President,  asserting  that  he  was  there  as 
Plenipotentiary  of  the  Irish  Republic.  That  letter,  I 
remember,  was  sent  the  week  before  the  liberation  of  the 
prisoners,  and  it  brought  dismay  to  some  of  us.  For  it 
was  now  certain  that  President  Wilson  could  not  meet  the 
envoy  from  Ireland.  To  have  done  so  would  have  meant, 
in  the  first  place,  recognition  of  the  official  character  in 
which  he  described  himself;  and  in  the  second  place, 
would  have  implied  collusion  with  him  in  getting  his 
passport  in  one  capacity  and  using  it  solely  in  another 
capacity. 

A  great  opportunity  was  thus  thrown  away.  There- 
fore George  Gavan  Duffy  was  sent  after  Sean  T.  O'Kelly 
to  help  with  his  greater  experience  and  knowledge  of 
affairs.  Gavan  Duffy  had,  until  1916,  had  a  considerable 
practice  as  a  lawyer  among  French  clients,  and  it  was 
as  a  student  of  French  law  that  he  received  his  passports. 

249 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

Both  these  men  remained  on  the  Continent  as  official 
representatives  of  the  Irish  Republic  until  the  Truce  was 
signed  in  Dublin  in  July,  1921. 

Other  help,  however,  was  coming.  In  February  an 
Irish  Race  Convention  was  held  in  Philadelphia,  U.S.A., 
to  urge  that  President  Wilson  should  espouse  the  cause 
of  Ireland  at  Paris,  and  at  this  Convention  a  committee 
of  three  persons  was  appointed  to  assist  the  Irish 
Plenipotentiaries  in  their  presentation  of  the  case  there. 
These  three  men  were  Frank  P.  Walsh,  who  had  during 
the  war  acted  with  William  Howard  Taft  as  co-Chairman 
of  the  American  Labour  Board,  Edward  F.  Dunne,  some- 
time Governor  of  Chicago,  and  Michael  J.  Ryan.  They 
were  a  powerful  delegation,  and  they  came  to  Ireland  on 
their  way  to  Paris.  Here  they  received  a  remarkable 
welcome,  large  crowds  following  them  everywhere.  They 
attended  a  public  session  of  Dail  Eireann,  and  the  British 
military  provided  them  with  some  striking  scenes  that 
could  not  but  give  point  to  their  plea  when  at  length 
they  arrived  in  Paris.  On  several  occasions,  indeed,  they 
came  into  conflict  with  the  military,  and,  though  this 
was  undoubtedly  an  educative  experience,  it  was  not  cal- 
culated to  be  helpful  in  Paris,  in  spite  of  the  skill,  tact, 
and  dignity  with  which  they,  out  of  their  knowledge  of 
public  affairs,  always  negotiated  such  situations. 

It  was  therefore  a  little  pathetic  to  note  the  avidity  with 
which  the  Committee  was  received  everywhere  in  Ireland. 
It  is  certain  that  whatever  men  could  do,  these  men  would 
do.  They  were,  besides,  men  of  great  experience  in  public 
affairs — one  of  them,  Frank  P.  Walsh,  being  a  man  of 
great  force,  eloquence,  and  ability,  one  who  impressed 

250 


THE    DECLARATION    OF    THE    REPUBLIC    OF     IRELAND 

us  all  as  built  of  exceptional  timber.  But  it  was  already 
obvious  that  the  initial  blunder  could  not  be  remedied. 
And  every  speech  the  members  of  the  American  Com- 
mittee made,  honourably  endorsing  the  existent  inde- 
pendent Irish  Republic,  only  made  their  own  difficulties 
greater,  and  every  conflict  with  the  British  military  only 
gave  them  a  heavier  burden  to  carry. 

So  it  proved.  Already  in  May  it  had  become  clear 
that  we  must  think  and  plan  for  what  should  be  done 
when  failure,  inwardly  evident,  should  become  outwardly 
patent.  But  that  did  not  come  till  the  American  Com- 
mittee in  Paris  had  done  its  work,  and  the  famous  Lansing 
Note  had  been  received.  In  that  Note  the  American 
Secretary  of  State  stated  decisively  that  the  American 
Delegation  to  the  Peace  Congress  did  not  intend  to  inter- 
fere in  what  it  deemed  to  be  the  private  affair  of  Great 
Britain.  So  ended  in  failure  all  the  careful  plans  that 
had  been  made  during  two  years.  So  fell  the  brave 
structure  of  hopes  that  had  been  built. 

The  news,  when  it  came,  was  not  nice.  De  Valera, 
I  think,  felt  it  most  keenly.  He  certainly  showed  it  most 
keenly.  For  others  of  us  anticipation  had  already  blunted 
the  sharp  edge  of  our  disappointment.  On  the  Saturday 
night  following,  at  a  presentation  that  was  made  to 
Arthur  Griffith  at  the  Mansion  House,  he  revealed  his 
disappointment  in  a  speech  of  gloomy  foreboding.  During 
the  next  week  the  whisper  passed  through  Dublin  that 
the  night  after  his  speech  he  had  left  Ireland  on  his  way 
to  America. 


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FENCING  FOR  POSITION  IN  THE  WAR 

§i 

I  AM  sure  that  when  Eamon  de  Valera  decided  in 
June,  1919,  on  reading  the  Lansing  Note,  to  go  at 
once  to  America,  he  did  so  consciously  believing  that 
that  course  was  the  most  practical  amid  the  difficulties 
that  thickened  at  the  time — though  I  also  do  believe  that 
he  unconsciously  reacted  from  facing  those  difficulties  in 
Ireland.  But  not  all  is  practical  that  appears  so,  and  a 
good  deal  less  is  practical  than  says  so,  and  what  the  eye 
sees  may  only  be  the  skirts  of  a  problem  almost  passed, 
vanquished,  or  triumphant.  For  this  reason  the  most 
distant  vision  often  begets  the  most  immediate  wisdom, 
for  it  is  not  the  cure  of  that  which  has  passed  or  is 
passing  that  is  critical,  but  the  cure  of  that  which  has 
yet  to  come. 

America  was  important,  not  only  because  of  the  great 
Irish  population  there  (though  most  people  in  Ireland 
naturally  thought  only  of  this),  but  because  Americans, 
more  than  most  other  peoples,  were  ready  to  be  quickened 
to  the  kind  of  interest  that  Ireland  needed.  Indeed,  that 
kind  of  interest  was  exerted  in  Ireland's  behalf  more 
powerfully  than  is  commonly  recognized,  and  official 
archives  hold   the  secret  how  great   an   influence   that 

252 


FENCING     FOR     POSITION     IN    THE     WAR 

interest  was  in  bringing  about  the  Treaty  of  1921.  But 
there  were  abler  men  than  he  already  at  that  work — men 
of  experience  in  public  affairs,  men  who  knew  the  factors 
and  conditions  in  the  States,  men  who  had  put  aside  old 
feuds  and  had  built  an  Irish  unity  there  unlike  anything 
that  the  past,  had  seen.  A  visitor  from  Ireland  holding 
de  Valera's  position  could,  to  be  sure,  have  stirred  up  a 
vast  enthusiasm,  for  that  was  never  difficult  to  do.  But 
a  vast  enthusiasm  is  as  often  an  effectual  way  of  stopping 
practical  work  as  it  is  a  hopeful  way  of  beginning 
it.  For  a  pent  public  emotion  must  find  some  outlet, 
and  if  it  is  not  allowed  to  explode  in  enthusiasm  it  may 
set  something  in  motion,  but  if  it  explode  the  energy  is 
wasted.     So  there  were  even  dangers  in  a  visit. 

But  however  important  America,  Ireland,  where  the 
difficulties  had  so  grievously  thickened,  was  the  place 
where  destiny  had  to  be  decided;  and  the  consequence  of 
Eamon  de  Valera's  secret  journey  was  that  the  guidance 
of  the  nation  during  the  next  critical  year  and  a  half 
fell  to  Arthur  Griffith.  It  could  not  have  come  to  better 
hands.  Every  quality  of  his  was  suited  to  that  tremendous 
occasion;  and  none  will  ever  be  able  to  estimate  what,  as 
Acting  President,  his  mere  presence  at  the  head  of  affairs 
meant  during  that  time.  The  fitness  was  too  complete 
for  its  value  to  be  measured;  and  the  mind,  therefore,  can 
only  appreciate  a  Tightness  that  occurred,  without  being 
able  to  calculate  the  greatness  of  its  public  service.  There 
was  nothing  spectacular  about  it,  for  there  was  nothing 
spectacular  about  the  man.  There  was  little  about  it  on 
which  the  imagination  could  lay  hold.  It  was  silent  and 
undemonstrative,  having  no  need  of  eloquence  because  of 

253 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

its  sufficiency.    Of  itself  it  was  a  sufficient  table  on  which 
to  write  his  fame. 

His  steadiness  and  unbreakableness  were  a  rock  on 
which  the  people  leaned  in  the  worst  of  the  storm.  My 
work  during  these  years  put  me  in  touch  with  folk  in 
many  parts  of  the  country,  when  it  seemed,  often,  that 
the  people  must  break  before  the  attacks  made  on  them; 
and  I  remember  his  name  being  spoken  always  as  a  sign 
of  their  trust.  The  spectacular  might  have  uplifted  them, 
to  let  them  fall  when  it  was  no  longer  available;  but  his 
steadiness  gave  them  steadiness;  and  his  acknowledged 
power  of  endurance  gave  them  hope,  bringing  them 
strength  also  to  endure.  His  qualities  were  the  very 
qualities  of  which  they  themselves  stood  most  in  need; 
and  thus  he  became  the  symbol  of  national  resistance 
with  a  peculiar  fitness. 

It  was  the  same  within  the  immediate  circle  of  his 
associates.  When  Eamon  de  Valera  left  for  America 
Dail  Eireann  was  somewhat  sharply  divided.  Only  the 
intervention  of  the  British  Government,  in  proclaiming 
all  public  sessions  of  that  body,  masked  a  division  that 
was  perhaps  inevitable  in  the  circumstances.  The  very 
creation  of  an  Executive  had  created  an  opposition;  and 
an  attempt  was  made,  during  the  secret  sessions  of  this 
summer,  to  broaden  responsibility  by  putting  the  chief 
heads  of  executive  control  (or  attempt  at  control,  where 
Dublin  Castle  held  a  complete  and  elaborate  machinery 
of  control)  into  the  care  of  special  committees.  The  pro- 
posal was  an  impracticable  one;  but  it  had  at  least  this 
much  of  justification,  that  those  who  pressed  it  desired 
that  Dail  Eireann  should  be  consulted  as  to  decisions 

254 


FENCING    FOR     POSITION     IN    THE    WAR 

about  to  be  taken  in  its  name.  They  were  not  content, 
for  example,  to  hear  from  persons  in  the  city,  in  touch 
with  I.R.B.  circles,  that  Eamon  de  Valera  had  gone  to 
America,  leaving  Ireland  in  the  thickest  of  difficulties, 
when  they  had  been  elected  to  responsibility  for  just  such 
decisions.  Nor  were  they  content  to  let  the  responsibility 
for  the  failure  at  Paris  go  un searched.  And  the  proposal 
they  put  forward,  impracticable  though  it  was  (since 
control  by  Committee  is  no  control  at  all),  was  their 
attempt  to  bring  within  their  sight  decisions  in  which 
they  were  seldom  consulted,  and  some  of  which,  they 
believed,  were  not  taken  by  the  Executive  of  Dail  Eireann 
at  all,  but  by  the  I.R.B. 

Such  was  the  internal  situation  that  Griffith  had  to  face; 
and  he  faced  it  and  brushed  aside  dissension  with  brief 
and  masterly  authority.  He  did  not  spare  blunt  words — 
he  seldom  spared  blunt  words — but  he  made  it  evident 
that  he  did  not  speak  them  for  the  personal  satisfaction  of 
speaking  them,  and  still  less  because  he  had  lost  control 
of  himself.  He  never  turned  to  personalities,  or  bent  to 
abuse,  or  left  a  sting  in  memory.  He  spoke  with  absolute 
unconcern  of  the  person;  spoke  in  the  fewest  words  in 
which  his  judgment  could  be  contained;  and  pursued  un- 
flinchingly the  end  he  had  determined.  But,  always,  he 
strove  earnestly,  without  surrender  to  any,  to  hold  all 
sides  together  in  unity.  And  he  succeeded — succeeded  as 
other  men  with  greater  amiability,  and  with  less  of  a 
resolute  will  of  their  own  would  not  have  done.  He 
won  his  opponents  in  the  end  by  his  character,  not  by 
indecision  or  by  bending  to  them. 

I    remember    speaking    with    several    of    those    who 

255 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

attempted  to  bring  about  the  change.  Particularly  I 
remember  the  deputy  who  had  put  forward  the  motion 
containing  the  proposal.  After  the  defeat  of  his  motion 
he  thought  of  resigning  the  responsibility  the  electors 
had  placed  on  him  (a  course  from  which  I  earnestly 
dissuaded  him);  but  in  Griffith's  own  entire  disinterested- 
ness he  had  nothing  but  trust.  That  trust,  incidentally, 
was  one  of  meaning,  for  the  marks  of  his  opponent's 
strokes  were  fresh  upon  him.  That  was  some  time  in 
July.  We  spoke  again  at  the  end  of  that  year,  when  his 
opposition  had  been  silenced.  No  man,  he  said,  could 
have  accomplished  what  Griffith  had  that  year  accom- 
plished, turning  a  divided  Dail  into  a  united  assembly, 
by  his  willingness  always  to  annul  himself,  without,  how- 
ever, once  consenting  to  the  annulment  of  his  purpose  or 
intention.  The  basis  of  his  earlier  criticisms,  he  told  me, 
remained,  but  he  would  do  nothing  to  make  Griffith's 
task  more  difficult  than  occasion  had  already  made  it. 

§2 

Indeed,  the  difficulty  of  Arthur  Griffith's  position,  as 
the  head  of  a  State  that  bravely  protested  its  separate 
existence,  and  was  now  required  to  make  good  that  pro- 
testation by  the  creation  of  Government,  was  formidable 
enough.  From  my  reading  of  history  I  do  not  recall  a 
parallel  to  the  responsibility  that  was  now  laid  on  him, 
so  strange  was  it,  so  hedged  with  problems  rising  high 
above  him,  so  set  with  snares  on  either  hand.  For  the 
Executive  of  which  he  was  the  chief,  having  been  called 
a  Government,  had  now  to  function  as  such  in  a  country 

256 


FENCING     FOR     POSITION     IN     THE     WAR 

where  another  Government  existed,  with  intricate  depart- 
ments fully  starred,  with  a  long  history  behind  them,  and 
with  an  army  of  some  50,000  men,  equipped  with  all  the 
panoply  of  modern  war  behind  them  to  enforce  their 
administration,  whereas  his  administration  had  no  staffs, 
no  tradition,  no  experience,  no  army  well  equipped, 
nothing  but  what  could  be  fashioned  anew  with  the 
support  of  a  consenting  people,  whose  consent  had  to  be 
carried  at  every  stage  if  disaster  was  not  to  occur,  and 
with  whom,  therefore,  education  and  propaganda  had  to 
march  front  by  front  with  the  creation  of  administrative 
departments. 

Truly  this  was  a  formidable  task,  of  itself  enough  to 
daunt  the  most  indomitable  courage.  Yet  this  was  not 
all — and  perhaps  it  was  not  even  the  greater  part  of — 
his  difficulty.  Justice  and  candour  compel  the  memory 
that  Arthur  Griffith  was  now  the  head  of  an  Executive, 
the  most  powerful  members  of  which  had  opposed  him, 
and  worked  against  him  consistently  by  every  available 
method  for  over  two  years. 

I  knew  him  well  enough,  meeting  him  daily  and  in 
quick  sympathy  with  him,  to  feel  that  there  were  often 
occasions  when  he  agreed  rather  with  his  critics,  when 
they  pressed  for  knowledge  as  to  what  was  happening, 
than  with  his  colleagues,  who  withheld  it  from  them, 
and  often  enough  from  him.  Feeling  his  difficulty,  I 
never  spoke  of  these  matters  to  him  of  my  own  instance; 
and  he  very  rarely  spoke  of  them  with  me.  When  he 
did  speak,  it  was  generally  to  ask  an  opinion;  and  when 
the  opinion  was  given,  he  would  generally  remain  for  a 
long  time  in  silent  thought  before  we  turned  to  speak  of 

257  s 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

other  matters.  Without  fantasy  one  may  say  that  we 
conversed  as  much  by  silences  as  by  words;  and  though 
this  was  always  true  of  him,  it  was  particularly  true  at 
this  time;  and  I  knew  far  more  confidently  than  by  the 
communication  of  words  that  he  was  troubled  to  dis- 
cover where  the  nation  was  being  led  beyond  his  sight, 
and  to  an  extent  beyond  his  control.  Some  of  us  used 
to  meet  nearly  every  night  in  the  ordinary  way  of  com- 
panionship; but  he  always  desired  that  he  and  I  should 
meet  for  tea  together  before  this;  and  I  think  that  a 
stranger  watching  us  unobserved  would  have  found  con- 
siderable amusement  from  the  spectacle  of  two  men  sit- 
ting together  for  a  couple  of  hours,  and  often  not 
exchanging  half  a  dozen  sentences  apiece  during  all 
that  time. 

In  later  days,  when  the  Treaty  was  signed  and  division 
had  absolved  him  from  the  obligation  of  silence,  he  turned 
back  to  these  times;  and  then  I  learned  from  his  words, 
what  his  silence  had  already  conveyed  to  me  with  absolute 
conviction,  that  he  had  disapproved  of  many  things  done 
during  this  time,  decisions  taken  beyond  his  knowledge, 
some  of  which  he  only  learned  when  he  read  of  them  in 
die  Press.  Eamon  de  Valera's  journey  to  America,  and 
his  assumption  there  of  the  Presidency  of  the  Irish  Re- 
public, for  which  there  had  been  no  election,  and  for 
which  no  authority  existed,  were  matters  to  which  he 
made  special  reference. 

Yet  at  that  time  he  always  stood  sturdily  by  his 
colleagues,  with  the  infinite  patience  that  was  one  of 
the  chief  constituents  of  his  strength.  I  have  said  before 
that  loyalty  was  the  first  law  of  his  nature;  and  it  was 

258 


FENCING     FOR     POSITION     IN    THE     WAR 

never  so  perfectly  seen  as  during  these  months;  for  it  was 
loyalty  with  men  who  were  enforcing  a  policy  on  him 
with  which  he  did  not  agree.  They  were  preparing  for 
war,  believing  this  course  tc  be  necessary  and  proper, 
whereas  he  did  not  believe  war  to  be  either  necessary 
or  proper.  For  nearly  twenty  years  his  ideal  had  been 
the  organization  of  passive  resistance,  an  ideal  now  the 
more  greatly  strengthened  that  there  was  a  putative 
national  State  about  which  that  resistance  could  be 
rallied.  It  is  idle  to  consider  whether  war  was  necessary 
or  whether  passive  resistance  would  not  have  won  its  way 
to  the  same  end — idle,  because  the  past  is  past.  But  it  is 
not  idle  to  remember  that  he  held  his  ground  firmly, 
knowing  that  beyond  his  knowledge  preparations  were 
being  taken  for  violent  methods;  and  that  he  was  pre- 
pared at  all  times  to  work  for  unity,  even  to  the  sub- 
mission of  himself  and  his  plans,  in  order  that  the  nation 
might  face  the  future,  and  all  that  it  might  bring,  with 
the  high  courage  born  of  conscious  unity. 

;<  Sinn  Fein,"  he  said  before  the  Ard-Fheis,  of  the 
autumn  of  that  year — an  Ard-Fheis  scattered  by  the 
police — "  is  not  a  party.  It  is  a  national  composition. 
If  it  is  a  party  at  all,  it  is  a  composite  party.  No  parts 
of  that  composition  may  claim  its  own  individual  pro- 
gramme until  the  national  ideal  of  freedom  has  first  been 
attained.  Then  we  may  press  forward  our  separate  ideals. 
Until  then  we  must  sink  ourselves  that  the  nation  may 
gain  from  our  unity." 

These  were  words  wrought  from  his  deepest  medita- 
tion, expressing  a  thought  fashioned  in  the  long  silences 
that  had  become  habitual  to  him.    For  he  knew  (he  could 

259 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

not  but  have  known)  what  was  being  prepared;  and  he 
knew  that  he  was  powerless  to  prevent  it;  and  he  accepted 
it  as  his  simple  duty  to  rally  all  sections  together  to  face  it. 

§3 
Following  upon  the  establishment  of  Dail  Eireann  as 
the  national  Parliament,  and  the  declaration  of  the  Irish 
Republic,  the  title  and  standing  of  the  Irish  Volunteers 
were  changed.  Since  that  body  had  been  founded  in  the 
autumn  of  1913  it  had  been  responsible  to  no  authority 
other  than  its  own  elected  Executive.  Now,  however, 
the  Irish  Volunteers  as  such  ceased  to  exist,  and  the 
organization  became  instead  the  Irish  Republican  Army. 
It  is  significant  of  the  independence  that  the  Volunteers 
had  always  asserted  that  in  the  late  spring  or  early 
summer  of  that  year,  1919,  they  held  a  special  Conven- 
tion to  consider  whether  they  should  accept  the  change, 
and  submit  to  the  authority  of  Dail  Eireann.  There  were 
some  who  doubted  the  desirability  of  the  change,  who 
believed  that  the  Volunteers  should  pursue  their  own 
ends  in  collaboration  with,  but  independently  of  the 
authority  of,  Dail  Eireann.  I  have  sometimes  wondered, 
indeed,  whether  that  submission  would  have  been  gained 
but  for  the  high  authority  of  Eamon  de  Valera.  In  the 
end,  however,  as  the  result  of  the  firm  stand  he  took  on 
that  question,  the  Volunteers  (with  hesitancies  by  some, 
and  with  reservations  by  others)  became  the  Irish  Re- 
publican Army,  directly  responsible  to  Dail  Eireann, 
through  the  Minister  for  Defence  appointed  with  the 
consent  of  that  assembly. 

260 


FENCING     FOR     POSITION     IN     THE     WAR 

In  actual  fact,  however,  it  was  not  Dail  Eireann  that 
controlled  the  Irish  Republican  Army,  but  the  army  that 
controlled  the  Dail  by  creating  a  situation  that  of  itself 
put  the  Dail  to  one  side  and  put  the  army  into  power. 
For  a  sign  of  the  change  Dail  Eireann,  as  the  months 
passed,  met  less  and  less  frequently,  and  was  less  and  less 
thought  of,  while  the  army  held  the  field,  and  the  letters 
I.R.A.  came  more  and  more  into  prominence,  until  at 
last,  they  became  the  very  symbol  of  revolt.  Indeed,  the 
conditions  of  war  finally  became  such — war  in  street  and 
field,  with  spies  on  either  side  like  a  hundred  eyes  every- 
where— that  it  was  seldom  possible  for  Dail  Eireann  to 
assemble;  and  the  Executive  Council  of  the  I.R.A.  was 
able  to  compel  a  situation  in  which  its  decisions  reached 
further  in  their  influence  than  the  decisions  of  the  Execu- 
tive of  the  State. 

This  lay  in  the  future,  of  course,  and  did  not  affect, 
the  year  1919,  of  which  I  am  writing;  but  it  is  necessary 
to  look  ahead  in  order  to  see  with  what  care  the  ground 
was  being  prepared  during  this  year.  For  1919  was  the 
year  in  which  the  I.R.A.  was,  with  great  skill  and  no 
little  subtlety,  fencing  for  position :  gathering  munitions 
and  perfecting  its  organization,  on  the  one  hand;  and, 
on  the  other,  preparing  the  public  mind  for  what  was  to 
come.  And,  in  view  of  the  strong  opposition  of  policy 
and  personality  that  for  years  had  existed  between  the 
two  men,  it  is  striking  to  remember  that,  whereas  Arthur 
Griffith,  as  Acting  President,  was  the  head  of  the  State, 
Cathal  Brugha,  as  Minister  for  Defence,  was  the  head  of 
the  I.R.A. 

Early  in  that  year,  in  fact,  the  fencing  for  position  had 

261 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

begun;  for  in  March  an  attack  was  suddenly  made  on  the 
aerodrome  at  Collinstown,  Co.  Dublin,  and  a  number  of 
arms  and  munitions  seized  and  borne  successfully  away. 
For  a  long  time  after  this  nothing  so  sinking  was  again 
attempted,  but  smaller  raids  for  arms  were  from  time  to 
time  reported  from  every  part  of  the  country.  These 
were  at  first  confined  to  private  houses;  but  soon  isolated 
barracks  of  the  Royal  Irish  Constabulary  began  to  be 
attacked. 

Great  subtlety  was  shown  in  this,  for  feeling  had  been 
stirred  against  the  R.I.C.,  and  demands  had  been  made 
that  members  of  that  force,  as  Irishmen,  should  resign 
a  hostile  service  and  take  their  place  with  the  rest  of  their 
people.  Soldiers  of  the  British  Army,  however,  were  re- 
garded as  men  who  were  simply  doing  their  duty,  and 
the  public  mind  was  not  ready  at  that  time  to  accept  with 
any  enthusiasm  the  thought  of  hostilities  with  the  British 
Army.  Therefore  the  R.I.C.  was  chosen  for  a  beginning, 
and  all  that  year  constant  propaganda  was  maintained 
against  that  force.  The  two  things  played  together.  The 
civil  action  was  conducted  by  Sinn  Fein  under  the  title 
of  the  "  social  ostracization  of  the  R.I.C,"  and  this  pre- 
pared the  public  mind  for  armed  attacks  on  R.I.C. 
barracks.  Where  in  many  country  districts  and  towns 
people  declined  to  sit  at  Mass  in  the  same  pews  as  the 
R.I.C,  however  thronged  churches  might  be,  and 
while  news  came  from  all  over  the  country  of  peelers 
resigning  from  the  force  and  being  acclaimed  as  national 
heroes,  it  was  not  difficult  for  the  I.R.A.  to  attack  this 
armed  branch  of  the  British  forces  with  the  entire  consent 
of  the  people.    And  in  this  way  the  people's  minds  were 

262 


FENCING     FOR     POSITION     IN    THE    WAR 

being  prepared  for  a  much  larger  and  more  ambitious 
campaign. 

The  ground  was  well  chosen,  and  the  gains  were  many. 
The  first,  gain  was  that  the  civil  work  of  the  R.I.C. 
practically  ceased.  They  became  an  armed  force  purely, 
and  so  the  various  departments  that  relied  on  the  force 
for  information  or  administration  found  it  impossible  to 
function  as  before,  and  it  became  not  only  possible,  but 
even  imperative,  for  the  Republican  Government  to  con- 
sider setting  up  rival  departments  in  their  stead.  The 
second  gain,  from  the  point  of  view  of  those  who  planned 
this  campaign,  was  that  the  people  were  being  attuned  to 
the  thought  of  the  appeal  to  armed  force.  The  third  gain 
was,  the  R.I.C.  were  steadily  withdrawn  from  all  isolated 
barracks  and  concentrated  in  the  larger,  more  central 
barracks,  leaving  large  tracts  of  country  to  be  controlled 
and  policed  completely  by  the  I.R.A.  And  the  last  gain 
was  that  arms  were  captured  and  distributed  to  put  the 
I.R.A.  on  a  war  footing. 

The  fruit  of  these  things  were  not  to  be  seen  till  early 
in  1920,  but  it  is  important  to  remember  that  the  work 
itself  was  persistently  accomplished,  little  by  little  and 
week  by  week,  during  19 19.  When  I  say  that  it  was 
done  as  the  result  of  a  deliberate  plan  I  must  not  be 
understood  to  mean  that  its  consequences  were  all  so 
clearly  foreseen  as  they  now  may  be  reviewed.  Not  so 
presciently  does  human  nature  work.  The  plan  was 
nevertheless  deliberate.  The  management  of  public 
opinion  was  accomplished  simply  by  avoiding  anything 
that  might  too  suddenly  outrage  it,  and  the  withdrawal 
of  the  British  Government  to  its  central   stations  was 

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RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

accomplished  by  attacking  it  where  it  was  weakest,  in 
outlying  police  barracks.  The  consequence  was  that  the 
more  ambitious  plans  of  1920  became  possible  because 
of  the  skilled  fencing  for  position  in  1919,  and  the  appeal 
to  armed  force  and  the  challenge  to  war  were  put  beyond 
human  power  to  change  or  recall.  For  long  Arthur 
Griffith  had  fought  against  this  very  thing,  and  now, 
being  at  the  head  of  the  State,  he  was  required  to  be  its 
chief  defender. 


u 

For  myself,  during  these  months  of  summer  in  1919, 
I  had  established  a  weekly  journal  entitled  The 
Republic.  I  had  earnestly  considered  keeping  steadfastly 
away  from  all  politics,  but  when  it  became  apparent,  as 
it  soon  did  to  one  who  had  learned  to  read  the  strategy 
of  the  moves  on  the  board,  where  the  country  was  being 
headed,  to  what  difficult  and  dangerous  places,  it  seemed 
that  to  stand  aside  at  such  a  moment  would  be  very 
cowardice  and  faithlessness. 

In  June  I  had  been  elected  by  the  Ard-Chomhairle  (the 
High  Council)  of  Sinn  Fein  to  a  seat  on  the  Standing 
Committee,  and  in  the  same  month  I  started  my  paper. 
The  change  was  striking,  for  great  is  the  power  of 
the  printed  page.  Some,  of  whose  friendship  I  had 
not  till  then  been  aware,  gathered  about,  and  desired 
that  the  paper  should  be  made  the  centre  of  an  opposition. 
It  had  not,  however,  been  started  to  harass,  but  to  help 
Arthur  Griffith,  especially  by  bringing  attention  to  bear 
on  the  constructive  work  that  it  had  always  been  his 

264 


FENCING     FOR     POSITION     IN     THE     WAR 

desire  to  further,  and  to  that  purpose  it  held  during  its 
brief  life. 

In  the  meantime  Griffith  had  been  pressing  forward 
his  own  plans.  For  years  by  pen  and  speech  he  had 
advocated  the  development  of  the  unused  natural 
resources  of  the  nation  and  the  enunciation  of  a  national 
system  of  economics.  He  was  a  convinced  disciple  of  the 
school  of  Friedrich  List,  and  he  had  urged  that  what 
List,  had  done  for  Germany  should  be  done  for  Ireland. 
It  was  the  quality  of  his  mind  that  when  he  accepted  the 
general  Tightness  of  a  doctrine  he  avowed  that  doctrine 
in  all  its  details,  and  perhaps  there  are  not  many  who 
would  be  prepared  to  support  the  unreserved  advocacy  he 
gave  to  all  parts  of  List's  book,  or  would  love  the  picture 
he  often  painted  of  an  industrialized  Ireland.  In  our 
discussions  in  Reading  Gaol  on  the  course  of  lectures  he 
delivered  there  on  that  theme,  some,  I  remember,  had 
expressed  strong  disagreement  with  him.  Yet,  generally 
when  he  thought  he  was  expounding  List  he  was  in 
fact  expounding  himself — a  much  more  interesting  thing 
to  do.  His  faith  was  that  Ireland  should  frame  a  political 
economy  for  herself,  adapted  to  her  own  needs,  derived 
from  her  own  special  circumstances,  and  depend  upon  and 
develop  her  own  resources  for  the  maintenance  of  her 
own  population  by  the  building  of  industries  that  would 
make  her  less  dependent  on  outside  markets. 

An  opportunity  had  now  come  to  put  his  faith  to  the 
proof.  It  was,  of  course,  not  possible  to  develop  national 
resources,  to  build  industries,  and  to  frame  a  national 
economic  policy  while  another  Government  had  first  to  be 
driven  from  the  field.     But  it  was  possible  to  direct  the 

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RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

people's  attention  to  these  objects.  Therefore,  in  one  of 
the  secret  sessions  of  Dail  Eireann,  on  the  18th  of  June,  he 
proposed  a  motion,  which  was  seconded  by  Terence 
MacSwiney :  "  That  a  Select  Commission  be  appointed 
to  inquire  into  the  natural  resources  and  the  present  con- 
dition of  manufacturing  and  productive  industries  in 
Ireland,  and  to  consider  and  report  by  what  means  those 
natural  resources  may  be  more  fully  developed,  and  how 
those  industries  may  be  encouraged  and  extended." 

So  was  established  the  "  Commission  of  Inquiry  into 
the  Resources  and  Industries  of  Ireland,"  the  work  of 
which  was  to  run  side  by  side  with  the  fury  of  war  during 
the  next  two  years.  It  was  a  remarkable  body.  Indeed 
everything  about  it  was  remarkable.  It  was  established 
by  a  revolutionary  Government,  and  its  establishment 
was  the  first  act  of  a  constructive  character  done  by  that 
Government.  Yet  it  was  composed  of  persons  who  did 
not  necessarily  believe  in  the  political  faith  of,  or  the  claims 
made  by,  that  Government.  Invitations  were  extended 
to  leading  manufacturers,  men  of  commerce,  and  men  of 
science  in  the  country,  and  though  some  of  these  declined 
to  serve,  believing  that  no  good  grapes  could  grow  from 
such  vines,  or  that  service  in  such  a  vineyard  would  but 
bring  them  trouble,  and  perhaps  danger,  others  accepted 
the  invitation  who  would  have  declined  to  be  numbered 
among  republicans,  some  of  whom  had,  in  fact,  opposed 
Sinn  Fein  as  a  political  party. 

By  its  terms  of  reference,  moreover,  this  Commission 

266 


FENCING     FOR     POSITION     IN    THE    WAR 

was  no  ordinary  Commission  appointed  to  examine  a 
specific  problem  and  to  present  a  specific  solution.  These 
terms  were  contained  in  the  resolution  of  the  18th  of 
June  by  the  adoption  of  which  the  Commission  was 
created,  and  that  resolution  meant  an  economic  inquiry 
of  the  deepest,  and  widest,  kind,  the  subjects  to  be  taken, 
in  the  order  in  which  they  were  to  be  taken,  being  left  to 
the  Commission  itself,  all  those  subjects  to  be  considered 
as  parts  of  a  co-related  whole.  The  Commission  was, 
indeed,  to  be  not  less  than  a  National  Economic  Council, 
every  separate  report  of  which  had  to  be  related  to  reports 
on  other  allied  and  cognate  questions  lying  to  right  and 
left  of  itself.  It  is  the  common  experience  of  Commissions 
appointed  to  report  on  specific  subjects  that  their  reports 
involve  disturbance  of  such  other  questions,  and  that  it 
is  not  within  their  competence  or  responsibility  to  decide 
whether  such  disturbance  is  justified.  But  this  Com- 
mission had,  by  its  terms  of  reference,  within  each  report 
to  accept  responsibility  for  the  effect  of  its  recommenda- 
tions on  other  reports  which  it  either  had  already  made 
or  had  yet  to  make. 

This  enlarged  responsibility  was  dictated  by  the 
exigencies  of  the  time  and  occasion,  but  the  method  it 
implied  is  clearly  a  right  one,  and  it  leads  to  an  interesting 
question,  not  proper  to  be  pursued  here,  whether  a 
National  Economic  Council  is  not  a  right  and  necessary 
institution  in  every  efficiently  organized  State.  The  same 
exigencies,  moreover,  enlarged  the  responsibilities  in 
other  ways  also.  For,  to  anticipate  a  little,  at  the  first 
formal  meeting  of  the  Commission  on  the  21st  of 
September,  Arthur  Griffith  himself  opened  the  proceed- 

267 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

ings,  and  slated  that  it  was  the  intention  of  his  Govern- 
ment that  the  Commission  should  be  regarded  as  "a 
responsible,  autonomous  and  independent  body."  This 
meant  that  the  Commission  was  in  effect,  to  be,  in  an 
advisory  non-executive  capacity,  the  national  authority  to 
which  all  economic  matters  were  first,  to  be  referred  in 
order  that  they  might  be  fitted  into  a  coherent  framework 
of  policy.  Afterwards  difficulties  arose  in  regard  to  the 
interpretation  of  these  words.  I  merely  mention  them 
now  as  a  sign  of  his  thinking  on  these  matters,  for  it  was 
his  faith  that  advice  on  economic  matters  should  not  be 
crossed  and  confused  with  passing  political  issues,  but 
should  be  framed  by  a  competent  body  taking  review  of 
all  the  true  and  permanent  factors  of  the  national  life. 
He  desired  in  such  matters  the  same  kind  of  continuity 
and  purpose  that  most  nations  give  only  to  their  foreign 
policies,  and  he  particularly  desired  this  detachment  and 
coherency  at  that  time,  because  it  was  clear  that  national 
politics  were  soon  to  be  straightened  out  into  the  simple 
case  of  war  and  bloodshed. 

Of  this  Commission  of  Inquiry  I  was  invited  by  him, 
on  behalf  of  his  Government,  to  become  the  secretary. 
He  explained  that  it  was  the  intention  of  the  Government 
that  the  Commission  should  elect  its  own  chairman,  but 
that  the  secretary  should  be  appointed  by  the  Govern- 
ment, and  that  the  Commission  should  be  held  responsible 
to  the  Government  through  him. 

The  offer  was  a  tempting  one,  for  it  gave  an  unrivalled 
opportunity  of  inquiry  into  the  whole  range  of  national 
economics — an  opportunity,  indeed,  of  a  kind  to  be 
coveted  in  any  country,  but  peculiarly  in  Ireland,  a  virgin 

268 


FENCING     FOR     POSITION     IN     THE     WAR 

field  for  developmental  and  constructive  inquiry.  Yet  I 
hesitated,  for  I  had  my  paper,  into  which  all  my  posses- 
sions had  gone,  to  consider.  That  difficulty,  however, 
was  soon  decided  summarily  by  the  British  Government. 

The  offer  was  made  to  me  some  time  in  August,  and  at 
that  time  Michael  Collins,  as  Minister  for  Finance,  was 
busy  arranging  for  the  issue  of  a  Republican  loan,  in  the 
form  of  Dail  Bonds,  to  be  offered  both  in  Ireland  and 
America.  From  the  subscription  to  this  loan  the  work 
of  the  Republican  Government  was  to  be  financed.  How 
many  of  those  who  subscribed  ever  expected  their  money 
to  be  returned  I  do  not  know,  but  feeling  was  now 
running  high,  and  it  was  known,  as  the  event  proved, 
that  the  people  in  Ireland  were  willing  to  subscribe 
generously  to  the  support  of  the  Government  they  had 
elected.  The  difficulty  was  to  let  them  know  of  the  loan. 
Dail  Eireann  had  been  suppressed,  Sinn  Fein  had  been 
suppressed,  and  though  they  could  continue  to  meet  in 
secret  and  work  behind  cover,  for  the  success  of  the  loan 
publicity  was  required  and  a  wider  and  more  wealthy 
circle  than  such  secret  work  could  reach.  It  was  there- 
fore decided  to  advertise.  All  of  us  who  owned  journals 
were  to  be  thrown  cheerfully  into  a  conflagration,  the 
blaze  of  which  would  prove  a  much  more  successful 
advertisement  than  any  mass  of  printed  matter. 

The  plan  was  characteristic  of  Collins.  It  had  the 
touch  of  largeness  that,  with  his  new  responsibilities,  he 
was  now  beginning  to  acquire.  I  remember  when  the 
advertisement  came  to  me  in  my  editorial  office  on 
Ormond  Quay  how  I  held  it  before  me  in  admiration  of 
the  tinder  my  poor  paper  was  to  make.    Yet  there  was 

269 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

nothing  to  be  said,  and  the  advertisement  was  published. 
That  was  on  a  Thursday  early  in  September.  On  the 
following  Saturday  Ormond  Quay  was  held  by  military, 
by  police,  and  by  detectives,  while  founts  were  melted, 
type  broken,  and  a  formal  notice  of  suppression  delivered 
on  my  publishers.  The  same  thing  was  happening  else- 
where in  the  city  and  in  the  country,  and  in  all,  as  I 
remember,  some  dozen  journals  were  suppressed  in 
Ireland  that  day  for  daring  to  print  that  advertisement. 

The  result  was  that  the  Republican  loan  was  advertised 
by  the  British  Government  with  a  military  pomp  and 
worldwide  notoriety  that  the  Irish  Republican  Govern- 
ment could  never  have  hoped  to  achieve.  And  I  was  dis- 
engaged from  all  other  responsibilities  to  undertake  a  task 
that  was  to  occupy  me  for  two  years,  till,  with  the  signing 
of  the  Treaty,  I  was  called  to  other  work.  I  will  ever 
regard  that  two  years'  intellectual  discipline  as  one  of 
the  most  valuable  experiences  of  my  life. 

§6 

Thus,  during  the  winter  of  1919-1920  the  two  parts  of 
the  work  of  Republican  Government  ran  side  by  side. 
The  Commission  of  Inquiry  was  as  yet  the  only  substantial 
attempt  at  constructive  work  to  which  it  had  put  its  hand. 
Other  civil  tasks  had  to  wait  before  they  could  be  effective 
till  the  network  of  the  organization  of  the  R.I.C.  had  been 
torn  beyond  recovery  over  large  tracts  of  country,  and 
gathered  together  to  cover  a  less  ambitious  held.  Then 
new  departments  had  to  be  created  to  take  the  place  of 
British  departments  that  had  ceased  to  function,  and  old 

270 


FENCING     FOR     POSITION     IN    THE     WAR 

departments  (such  as  the  Ministry  for  Local  Government, 
over  which  William  T.  Cosgrave  presided)  were  able  to 
exercise  a  power  and  consequently  to  organize  an  activity 
that  till  then  had  not  been  possible.  But  during  this 
winter  the  Commission  was  the  first  sign  of  life  on  the  civil 
side  that  the  people  had  seen  of  the  Republican  Govern- 
ment, and  some  of  us  who,  as  we  started  upon  the  work, 
appreciated  the  stupendous  task  that  had  been  committed 
to  us,  foresaw  difficulties  and  disappointment  in  the 
eagerness  with  which  some  of  the  people  expected  the 
speedy  establishment  of  a  new  heaven  and  earth  from  so 
hopeful  a  beginning. 

Beside  the  work  of  the  Commission  went  the  work  of 
other  departments,  but  particularly  the  work  of  the 
army.  That  winter  was  one  of  preparation,  and  nowhere 
was  that  preparation  more  active  than  in  the  I.R.A.  The 
old  Executive  Council  of  the  Irish  Volunteers,  that  had 
continued  in  the  early  months  of  the  I.R.A.,  was  dis- 
placed by  a  General  Staff.  Of  this  Staff  a  selected  few, 
members  of  the  I.R.B.,  with  Michael  Collins  at  their 
head,  initiated  new  plans,  schemes,  and  policies;  but  the 
Staff  itself  was  responsible  for  the  organization  and 
administration  of  the  force  under  Cathal  Brugha,  as 
Minister  for  Defence,  and  undertook  the  conduct  of  the 
plans  and  policies  that  were  decided.  The  Chief  of  this 
Start  was  Richard  Mulcahy,  now  Minister  for  Defence 
of  the  Free  State. 

Moreover,  during  these  months  the  limitation  of 
finance,  from  which  the  I.R.A.  (like  every  labour  of  the 
putative  Government)  had  suffered,  was  relieved.  The 
Republican   Loan   was   succeeding.      Its   collection   was 

271 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

costly,  for  under  the  responsibility  of  each  deputy  in  each 
constituency  organizers  and  collectors  were  appointed, 
who  moved  from  town  to  town,  and  from  district  to 
district,  utilizing  the  Sinn  Fein  organization,  with  the 
consent  and  authorization  of  the  Standing  Committee  of 
Sinn  Fein,  gathering  subscriptions  from  every  part  of  the 
country.  Their  work  was  extraordinarily  difficult,  for 
the  police  watched  them  everywhere,  and  detectives 
followed  them  wherever  they  could.  Disguises  were 
often  necessary,  and  quickness  of  wit  was  essential.  In 
one  case,  for  example,  an  organizer  had  "  worked "  a 
certain  town,  and  was  proceeding  by  train  to  the  next, 
when  as  the  train  was  about  to  leave  a  lad  who  knew 
him  (the  whole  town  had  known  of  him,  though  till 
then  the  police  had  not)  came  hurriedly  to  say  that  detec- 
tives had  boarded  another  part  of  the  train.  To  the 
astonishment  of  his  fellow-travellers  he  therefore  opened 
his  bag,  tore  into  shreds  every  document  it  contained,  and 
threw  them  from  the  window.  When,  therefore,  on  his 
arrival  he  was  at  once  arrested  and  searched,  nothing  was 
found  that  could  incriminate  him,  and  he  was  released. 
This  meant  a  journey  to  Dublin  for  more  bonds;  and 
thus  the  expenses  of  collection  were  increased;  but  as  a 
result  of  this  kind  of  patient,  detailed,  and  dangerous 
work  the  loan  was  made  an  extraordinary  success;  and 
the  work  of  departments,  and  especially  the  work 
and  organization  of  the  I.R.A.,  was  enlarged  and 
strengthened. 

Special  organizers  were  engaged  for  the  Army.  They 
were  not  sent  at  first  to  places  that  were  judged  to  be  of 
importance,  since  the  force  was  not  yet  in  a  position  to 

272 


FENCING    FOR     POSITION     IN    THE    WAR 

pick  and  choose,  but  only  where  small  nucleus  companies 
existed,  in  order  that  from  them  a  larger  organization 
might  be  extended  and  completed.  And  a  special  in- 
telligence system  was  organized,  of  which  Michael  Collins 
took  charge  on  the  General  Staff.  It  was  his  conduct  of 
this  system  that  so  greatly  demoralized  Dublin  Castle. 
Some  of  the  leading  members  of  the  detective  forces  on 
the  other  side  were  in  his  pay,  and  he  had  his  agents  in 
the  inmost  circles  where  secret  documents  were  received 
and  filed. 

I  remember,  for  example,  about  a  year  after  this  time 
I  was  travelling  in  the  West;  and  about  a  fortnight  after 
my  return  I  received  from  him,  not  a  copy,  but  the 
original  of  the  report  from  the  police  of  the  districts 
through  which  I  had  passed,  or  was  supposed  to  have 
passed,  containing  the  signatures  of  the  district  inspectors 
and  head  constables  responsible  for  the  remarkable  in- 
formation so  accumulated.  It  was  a  most  amusing  docu- 
ment; and  for  one  who  had  had  occasion  to  study 
calendars  of  State  papers  it  threw  a  quaint  light  on  the 
worth  of  other  similar,  if  more  antique,  documents.  The 
greater  part  of  it  was  pure  imagination.  Information  of 
my  movements  had  been  required;  and  that  information 
was  provided  by  observation  as  to  about  one-quarter  and 
by  splendid  invention  as  to  the  rest.  Even  the  books  I 
had  read  were  noted,  though  some  of  them  I  had  never 
seen.  I  had,  for  a  part  of  the  journey,  travelled  by  motor- 
car, and  had  chosen  roads  that  skirted  police  barracks. 
But  did  this  dry  invention  at  its  prolific  fountain  ?  Not  a 
bit.  The  gaps  were  filled  in  very  fully  and  also  very  in- 
accurately, and  signed  by  district  inspectors,  and  gravely 

273  T 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

studied  at  Dublin  Castle,  and  carefully  filed  for  the  bio- 
graphy of  my  criminal  life.  Yet  the  fact:  that  such  an 
original  document  should  have  come  into  my  hand  was 
an  example  of  the  thoroughness  with  which  Collins 
worked  his  intelligence  system,  and  enabled  the  I.R.A. 
to  know  what  its  enemy  was  thinking  and  often  what 
its  enemy  proposed  to  do. 

The  chief  need  of  the  I.R.A.,  however,  was  of  arms. 
Small,  secret  importations  of  arms,  munitions  and  explo- 
sives were  organized  from  England  and  Scotland,  but  the 
I.R.A.  was  increasing  in  numbers  faster  than  these  im- 
portations could  equip  them,  and  so  raids  were  conducted 
all  over  the  country.  Private  houses  were  raided;  the 
more  isolated  barracks  were  frequently  attacked;  rifles 
were  bought  and  ensnared  from  soldiers;  and,  as  time 
went  on,  bolder  adventures  were  made.  During  this 
autumn,  for  instance,  the  guard  at  King's  Inns  was 
attacked  in  broad  daylight,  and,  suspecting  nothing  so 
intrepid  at  such  a  time  of  day,  they  surrendered  at  once. 
All  their  rifles  and  ammunitions  were  put  into  a  waiting 
motor-car,  and  almost  before  the  guard  was  fully  aware 
of  what  was  happening  the  raiders  had  gone.  The  affair 
made  a  considerable  noise;  and  it  is  unnecessary  to  say 
that  the  exploit  stimulated  recruitment  to  the  I.R.A. 

Yet  bigger  things  were  being  hoped  for  and  planned. 
On  the  first  anniversary  of  Armistice  Day  it  had  been 
arranged  that  Lord  French,  as  Viceroy  and  Commander- 
in-Chief  of  the  Forces  in  Ireland,  should  take  the  salute 
of  a  special  march-past  of  selected  units  of  the  British 
Army.  A  platform  was  erected  for  this  purpose  opposite 
Parliament  House  in  College  Green — a  prominent  place, 

274 


FENCING    FOR    POSITION     IN    THE    WAR 

on  which  he  would  make  a  prominent  target.  I  wonder 
if  he  knew  how  nearly  he  went  on  that  occasion  to  his 
death.  For  arrangements  were  being  made  by  the  I.R.B. 
to  this  end  when  Griffith  heard  of  them  and  at  once  inter- 
posed his  authority. 

The  project  of  striking  at  the  head  of  the  hostile 
Government  was  not,  however,  abandoned.  Some  weeks 
later,  in  December,  he  went  to  England,  and  arrange- 
ments were  made  to  ambush  him  on  his  return.  The 
road  he  was  to  take  from  Kingstown  to  the  Viceregal 
Lodge  had  been  devised  carefully  along  secluded  country 
ways;  but  the  plans  were  known;  and  the  ambush  was 
laid  so  as  to  stop  his  cavalcade  while  gunmen  opened  fire 
on  it.  He  travelled  in  the  steel-plated  motor-car  in  which 
he  always  now  rode,  and  he  was  escorted  before  and 
behind  by  an  armed  guard  and  an  armoured  car,  the 
entire  procession  running  at  full  speed  once  it  had  been 
started.  To  this,  indeed,  it  owed  escape.  Those  who 
had  been  appointed  at  the  cross-roads  to  pull  a  farmer's 
dray  across  its  passage,  once  the  cavalcade  had  been 
sighted,  were  unable  to  complete  the  manoeuvre  quickly 
enough,  the  result  was  that,  though  a  furious  battery  of 
gun-fire  was  opened  upon  it,  the  car  in  which  the  Viceroy 
travelled  being  hit,  its  passengers  crouching  huddled  on 
the  floor,  the  procession  slipped  through  before  mortal 
injury  could  be  done. 

This  was  the  first  attempt  at  public  assassination;  and 
it  is  significant  of  the  change  that  had  already  been 
wrought  in  public  psychology  that  the  people  were 
frankly  disappointed  at  its  failure.  Whether  they  would 
have  been  equally  exultant  had  it  succeeded,  I  do  not  say. 

275 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

The  reality  of  success  might  have  brought  revulsion, 
where  the  lack  of  fatality  left  the  exploit  decked  with 
only  its  splendid  adventure.  Yet  the  fact  remains.  A 
few  months  before,  even  the  attempt  would,  I  believe, 
have  startled  and  disquieted;  but  now  it  evoked  a  furious 
regret  at  its  failure,  and  the  change  was  significant.  The 
exploit  meant  that  war  in  its  fullest  sense  was  shortly  to 
be  opened,  and  the  disappointment  meant  that  the  people 
would  be  carried  into  it  with  their  consent,  and  even  with 
their  approbation. 

§7 

During  these  weeks  the  Commission  of  Inquiry  had 
been  busy.  It  had  met  in  full  session  for  the  first  time 
on  the  21st  of  September,  when  its  proceedings  had 
been  opened  by  Arthur  Griffith  as  Acting  President  of 
the  Irish  Republic.  At  that  meeting  it  had  divided  its 
work  into  the  care  of  several  committees,  a  Standing 
Committee  for  the  conduct  of  running  business,  a 
Finance  Committee,  and  other  special  committees  accord- 
ing to  its  arrangement  of  the  subjects  of  inquiry.  The 
four  most  important  of  these  subjects  were  decided  to  be 
Food,  Power,  Textiles,  and  Minerals.  The  last  two  of 
these  were  put  aside  for  the  time  being,  and,  in  fact,  were 
never  engaged  before  the  Commiision  was  brought  to  an 
end.  Special  Committees  were  appointed  to  consider 
Food  and  Power,  to  arrange  for  the  hearing  of  evidence, 
and  to  report  to  the  Commission  in  full  session,  which  in 
turn  would  report  to  the  Republican  Government. 

It  is  a  sign  of  the  care  with  which  all  details  had  to  be 
considered  at  that  time  that  the  offices  of  the  Commission 

276 


FENCING     FOR     POSITION     IN    THE     WAR 

were  chosen  over  the  offices  of  the  American  Consul. 
Any  raid  on  such  premises  would  be  so  easily  liable  to 
misrepresentation  by  propaganda  that  greater  safety 
would  be  ensured;  and  so  it  proved  indeed;  for  later 
when  other  houses  in  the  city  were  being  searched  for 
the  secretary,  these  offices  were  always  warily  left  alone; 
and  once,  when  the  pursuit  ran  close  even  there,  the 
secretary  took  occasion  to  have  a  long  and  earnest,  con- 
sultation with  the  American  Consul  on  matters  of  in- 
dustrial inquiry,  knowing  that  his  rooms  would  be 
immune  from  search. 

I  do  not  propose  to  deal  in  any  detail  with  the  work 
of  this  Commission.  Its  work  was  of  the  greatest, 
economic  importance;  and  it  instituted,  I  believe,  a  form 
of  organization  for  such  inquiry,  and  in  the  consideration 
of  its  numerous  reports,  that  could  very  fruitfully  be 
developed.  These  are  matters,  however,  though  im- 
portant in  themselves,  that  are  hardly  proper  to  my 
present  purpose.  What  is  more  pertinent  to  that  purpose 
is  that  the  Commission  found  its  work  obstructed  at 
every  turn  by  the  armed  forces  of  Dublin  Castle;  and 
that  that  obstruction  had  a  great  deal  to  do,  first  with 
the  preparation  for  open  war,  and  afterwards  with  the 
conduct  of  that  war. 

Not  at  once  was  this  apparent.  The  first  public  sessions 
of  the  Commission  for  the  hearing  of  evidence  were  held 
in  the  City  Hall  in  Dublin  in  December  of  that  year. 
No  interference  was  then  attempted;  for  leading  citizens, 
some  of  whom  were  strongly  opposed  to  the  political 
faith  of  Sinn  Fein,  were  present  to  proffer  evidence;  and 
the  precaution  had  been  taken  to  have  representatives  of 

277 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

the  world's  Press,  a  large  number  of  whom  were  in 
Ireland  then,  present  on  that  occasion.  But  the  Irish 
Press  was  forbidden  to  print  that  evidence,  or  to  report 
the  proceedings  of  the  Commission.  The  amazing 
spectacle  was  therefore  seen  of  summaries  of  that 
evidence  being  printed  in  the  English  daily  Press  as 
well  as  in  such  English  economic  weeklies  as  the  Statifl, 
and  advertised  and  sold  all  over  Ireland  for  that  reason, 
while  the  Irish  Press  dared  not,  under  fear  of  suppression, 
suppose  that  such  a  body  as  the  Commission  of  Inquiry 
existed. 

It  was  different  when  the  Commission  proceeded  to 
Cork,  in  February  of  the  following  year,  1920,  to  hear 
evidence  there.  On  our  arrival  in  that  city  I  was  in- 
formed by  the  Head  Constable  that  sessions  of  the  Com- 
mission, public  or  private,  would  not  be  permitted,  but 
would  be  frustrated  by  armed  force  if  necessary.  Idle  to 
inform  him  that  the  Lord  Mayor  of  that  city  had  granted 
us  the  use  of  the  City  Hall,  and  that  leading  citizens  had 
agreed  to  give  evidence.  The  edict  was  complete,  and 
the  warning  summary.  Nevertheless,  it  was  a  point  of 
discipline  among  us  that  all  arrangements  should  be  com- 
pleted according  to  intention,  whatever  the  opposition; 
and  so  for  three  days  an  extraordinary  farce  was  enacted 
in  the  city. 

On  the  first  day,  when  we  and  our  witnesses  arrived 
at  the  City  Hall,  we  found  it  occupied  by  the  R.I.C. 
armed  with  carbines.  This  had  been  expected.  So  while 
a  few,  who  had  been  told  off  for  that  purpose,  held  the 
police  in  argument,  the  rest  moved  in  small  parties  to 
the  School  of  Art,  and  held  the  morning's  session  there. 

278 


FENCING    FOR    POSITION     IN    THE    WAR 

After  lunch  the  School  of  Art  was  found  to  be  held  by 
police  with  carbines;  and  so,  by  a  similar  manoeuvre,  we 
moved  to  the  County  Council  Chamber,  where  the  rest 
of  the  day's  work  was  completed.  The  following  morn- 
ing I  was  informed  by  our  pickets  that  every  possible 
public  building  was  held;  and  we  therefore  completed 
our  morning's  session  in  the  Imperial  Hotel,  where  we 
were  housed.  Soon  after  midday  this,  too,  was  sur- 
rounded by  police;  and,  in  response  to  the  prayer  of  the 
manager,  we  moved  elsewhere  in  the  afternoon.  We 
divided;  and  while  one  half  of  our  body  drew  the  police 
off  in  one  direction,  the  resl:  of  us  went  to  a  private  house 
(accompanied  by  our  witnesses,  who  by  this  time  had 
been  stirred  to  endure  all  the  consequences  of  opposition), 
and  completed  our  day's  work  there.  The  following  day 
we  doubled  back  upon  the  City  Hall,  and  had  practically 
completed  our  labours  there,  when  we  were  summarily 
and  forcibly  ejected. 

It  may  be  imagined  that  these  events  aroused  a  good 
deal  of  attention.  Owing  to  the  arrival  of  a  British 
Labour  delegation  at  the  City  Hall  at  the  moment  of  our 
ejection,  indeed,  they  made  excellent  stuff  for  the  chief 
Press  news  of  the  day;  and  prepared  all  people's  minds, 
in  Ireland  and  outside  of  Ireland,  for  the  regular  engage- 
ment of  war  between  the  Irish  Republican  Government, 
that  claimed  the  administration  of  the  country,  and  the 
British  Government,  that  held  it  and  was  prepared  at  all 
costs  to  enforce  its  holding. 

During  all  this  time,  persistently  week  by  week,  the 
attacks  on  the  R.I.C.  had  continued.  Barrack  after 
barrack  was  being  vacated;  and  reprisals  had  occurred. 

279 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

During   the   very   week  of   these   events   in  Cork,   for 
instance,  the  police  had  broken  loose  in  Thurles,  Co. 
Tipperary,  and  had  "  shot  up "  the  town.     In  a  wild 
night  they  had  paraded  the  streets  in  small  bands,  taking 
their  revenge  by  shooting  through  the  windows  of  private 
houses.    Terror  had  reigned  in  Thurles;  but  anger  soon 
followed  in  the  country;  and  it  was  apparent  that  the 
regular  commitment  of  war  could  not  long  be  delayed. 
This  regular  commitment  of  war,  however,  could  not, 
in  spite  of  these  things,  be  said  yet  to  have  been  made. 
It  was  soon  to  follow.    Every  Easter  since  1916  had  been 
a  time  of  suspense  and  preparation  in  an  expectation  of 
a  celebration  and  commemoration  of  the  Rising  of  that 
year.     Particularly  was  this  the  case  in  1920,  in  the  light 
of  all  that  the  previous  year  had  seen.     Nor  was  the 
general  expectation  unfounded,  though  the  commemora- 
tion took  a  form  that  certainly  was  not  expected. 

The  plans  were  carefully  laid,  and  in  view  of  the 
difficulties  of  communication  they  were  extraordinarily 
complete.  For  during  the  Easter  of  this  year  on  one 
night  nearly  every  vacated  barracks  in  the  country  was 
burned  to  the  ground. 

This  meant  war.  It  meant  that  a  definite  struggle  had 
been  entered  upon,  and  entered  upon  with  a  nation  that 
had  been  prepared  to  support  it  in  all  its  consequences. 
But  it  meant  more.  It  meant  that  all  the  areas  that  had 
been  covered  by  the  administration  of  these  barracks 
were  now  definitely  removed  from  recovery  by  the  British 
Government,  except  as  a  consequence  of  a  military 
campaign,  for  its  bases  of  operation  in  these  areas  had 
been  destroyed.    And,  since  a  people  cannot  exist  in  any 

280 


FENCING    FOR    POSITION     IN    THE    WAR 

orderly  manner  without  some  form  of  governmental 
administration,  it  meant,  too,  that  the  putative  Irish 
Republican  Government  was  placed  under  the  obligation 
of  creating  an  administration  for  these  areas.  Thus 
Easier,  1920,  was  even  a  greater  landmark  than  Easier, 
1916,  besides  being  as  pictorially  complete,  for  it  opened 
a  definite  slate  of  war,  with  all  its  dreadful  consequences, 
and  it  created  an  administrative  change  from  which  the 
nation  was  never  to  recede. 


281 


CHAPTER    TWELVE 

WAR 

§1 

WAR  had  definitely  been  announced.  Wherever 
one  travelled  in  Ireland  after  Easier,  1920,  one 
saw  roofless  walls,  stark  and  black,  of  burnt-out  police 
barracks,  loose  casements  rattling  unheeded  in  the  wind, 
sandbags  piled  still  in  the  windows,  through  which  the 
sky  was  seen,  and  steel,  loop-holed  sheeting,  often  twisted 
by  fire,  over  the  friendless,  deserted  doors.  They  were, 
with  all  their  paraphernalia  of  defence,  a  sign  and  mark 
of  the  change  that  had  come.  During  the  past  year  they 
had  been  equipped  for  defence  against  the  unsystematic, 
haphazard  attacks  that  had  been  attempted,  now  here, 
now  there,  throughout  the  country.  Now  this  manner  of 
fighting  was  definitely  and  deliberately  to  be  supplanted 
by  a  systematic  guerilla  warfare  in  which,  while  much 
was  necessarily  left  to  local  initiative,  a  general  directive 
and  plan  of  campaign  was  to  be  observed,  with  bands  of 
armed  men,  on  each  side,  seeking  one  another,  and 
evading  one  another,  trapping,  pursuing,  and  hindering 
one  another,  along  roads  and  lanes,  over  field,  mountain, 
and  bog. 

The  change  was  quite  definite,  though  the  sequence 
of  events  seems  to  indicate  a  mere  acceleration  of  fury, 

282 


WAR 


The  signal  was  unmistakable,  and  was  not  mistaken  by 
Dublin  Castle.  Characteristically,  its  first  reply  was  by 
subtlety.  Its  tradition  was  to  destroy  rebellion  from 
within  rather  than  by  attacks  from  without.  Unlike 
all  earlier  revolutionary  movements  in  Ireland,  the 
present  movement,  however,  had  proved  incorruptible. 
A  different  method  of  winning  a  way  within  the  organiza- 
tion so  as  to  strike  directly  at  those  who  controlled  it  had 
therefore  to  be  sought.  The  plan  failed,  but  it  was  not 
without  a  masterly  guile  of  its  own. 

One  evening  in  the  late  spring  of  that  year  I  was  re- 
turning homeward  from  my  office  at  the  Commission  of 
Inquiry  when  I  overtook  and  passed  Arthur  Griffith  at 
Trinity  College.  My  thoughts  were  full  of  many  matters 
when  his  voice  recalled  me  to  him.  Instantly  I  saw  a 
change  in  him.  Calm  always,  he  was  now  like  a  well 
of  waters  deeply  stirred.  Hardly  could  he  contain  his 
humour,  and  he  desired  that  all  other  work  of  mine 
should  be  banished  for  that  day,  for  he  had  a  tale  to 
tell  me. 

So  we  went  to  a  place  where,  at  that  early  hour,  we 
were  certain  to  be  alone,  and  with  many  chucklings  and 
much  delighted  reflection  in  silence  he  told  his  tale. 
Rather,  his  tale  emerged  to  light  through  these  obstruc- 
tions, with  no  order  or  sequence  at  first  to  commend  it, 
in  a  manner  much  unlike  the  deliberation  that  its  teller 
habitually  practised.  "  I  am  not  a  very  dramatic  sort 
of  man,  am  I?"  he  asked.  "  But  I  have  just  come  from 
a  strange  and  dramatic  scene.  It  would  make  a 
magnificent  scene  in  a  play,  I  think.  I  am  sure  no 
dramatist  has  ever  thought  of  anything  like  it." 

283 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

Some  weeks  earlier,  he  said,  a  man  by  the  name  of 
Hardy  had  come  to  see  him,  desirous  to  do  something 
signal  to  prove  his  attachment  to  the  cause.  He  had 
just  come  from  gaol  in  Belfast,  where  he  had  been  com- 
mitted for  helping  the  smuggling  of  arms  into  the 
country.  In  gaol  a  plan  of  exquisite  craft  had  been 
conceived  by  him,  in  pursuance  of  which  plan  he  had 
offered  himself  to,  and  had  been  accepted  by,  Dublin 
Castle  for  service  against  Sinn  Fein.  He  was  now 
attached  accordingly  to  the  R.I.C.  depot  at  Phoenix  Park, 
and  he  desired  to  meet  the  army  chiefs  of  the  I.R.A. 
He  knew  well  the  risks  he  incurred,  but  what  were  they 
to  what  his  country  could  require  of  him  ?  His  full  plan 
he  would  only  unfold  to  the  army  chiefs  themselves, 
but  briefly  it  was  that,  by  planning  with  his  employers 
for  their  capture,  he  would,  in  fact,  lead  the  heads  of 
the  British  Army  in  Ireland  into  a  trap  by  which  the 
tables  would  be  turned  upon  them. 

Now  Griffith  was  the  last  man  in  Ireland  to  whom 
to  come  with  such  a  tale.  Wary  as  a  fox,  he  scented 
danger  in  all  innocence  that  protested  itself.  So  he  made 
further  appointments  to  meet  Hardy,  and  diligently 
sought  out  his  record.  He  found  that  Hardy  had  indeed 
just  emerged  from  Belfast  Gaol,  and  that  he  had  been 
committed  there,  not  for  smuggling  arms,  but  for  fraud. 
Moreover,  he  found  that  only  a  few  months  before  he 
had  been  sentenced  to  a  long  term  of  imprisonment,  and, 
therefore,  that  he  had  been  liberated  when  only  a  fraction 
of  his  sentence  had  been  served. 

With  this  record  in  his  possession  Griffith  had 
arranged  with  Hardy  to  meet  the  army  chiefs  at  his 

284 


WAR 


office  in  Brunswick  Street.  Particularly  had  Hardy 
desired  to  meet  Michael  Collins,  and  it  was  agreed  that 
Collins  should  be  present,  the  meeting  to  be  at  five 
o'clock.  This  done,  Griffith  sent  a  message  to  certain 
chosen  journalises  in  Dublin,  representing  Irish,  English, 
and  Continental  papers,  that  he  had  an  important  State- 
ment to  make  punctually  at  a  quarter  to  five  on  that  day. 
Accordingly  two  representatives  from  French  journals, 
one  from  a  Spanish  journal,  two  from  American  journals, 
three  from  English  journals,  and  two  from  the  Dublin 
Press  arrived,  and  Griffith  explained  to  them  all  that 
had  occurred.  They  were,  he  said,  to  be  the  army  chiefs. 
Only  the  Dublin  journalists  were  to  speak,  lest  the 
accents  of  the  others  betrayed  them,  but  they  were  all 
to  look  as  like  revolutionary  army  chiefs  as  possible 
while  he  exposed  Hardy  before  them. 

Hardly  had  he  finished  before  Hardy  arrived,  and  was 
shown  into  their  presence.  Griffith  sat  at  his  table,  with 
Hardy  before  him,  while  the  others  sat  round  the  table 
grim  and  Sphinx-like,  while  Hardy  slyly  quizzed  them 
all.  One  of  them  particularly  attracted  him.  This  was 
M.  Berenger,  a  Gascon,  into  whose  southern  blood  the 
genuine  humour  of  the  scene  had  passed,  and  who  folded 
his  arms  and  glowered  down  upon  Hardy  with  a  grim 
and  furious  contempt.  (Griffith  imitated  Berenger's 
terrific  and  intimidatory  manner,  adding,  through  his 
laughter,  that  he  was  sure  Hardy  had  taken  him  to  be 
Collins.)  Then  Griffith  drew  from  his  victim  all  that 
had  already  been  told  him,  including  the  account  of  his 
imprisonment  for  helping  to  smuggle  arms  for  the  libera- 
tion of  his  country;  and  led  him  on  to  his  plan,  by  which 

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RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

the  I.R.A.  was  to  capture  the  heads  of  the  British  Army 
in  Ireland. 

While  this  was  being  discussed  in  detail  between  Hardy 
and  the  two  Dublin  journalists,  Griffith  took  from  his 
pocket  a  type-written  account  of  Hardy's  career,  which 
he  placed  on  the  table  before  him.  The  others  fell  silent; 
and,  asking  Hardy  if  the  life  story  he  was  about  to  read 
was  familiar  to  him,  Griffith  then  read  the  document  he 
had  prepared.  I  could  imagine  the  reading.  Griffith 
could  be  relentless  on  such  an  occasion  and  as  hard  as  a 
stone.  He  told  me,  however,  that  he  watched  Hardy's 
face  change,  and  his  pallor  increase  while  he  read,  till  at 
last  he  saw  his  hand  go  quickly  towards  his  breast- 
pocket. "  Stop  that,"  he  called  then;  "  you  have  my 
word  for  your  safety  while  you  are  here;  but  not  if  you 
draw  a  weapon  " :  and  Hardy's  hand  fell  into  his  lap. 

Then  Griffith  delivered  his  terms.  It  was,  he  said, 
not  yet  six  o'clock.  The  night  mail  left  at  eight.  By 
that  night's  mail  Hardy  must  leave  Ireland.  Griffith 
said  he  would  personally  answer  for  his  safety  for  that 
day;  but  not  for  one  hour  longer. 

Arthur  Griffith's  humour  had  now  passed,  and  he  was 
silent  and  stern  for  a  while;  but  his  humour  quickly 
returned.  It  was  the  recollection  of  M.  Berenger's  con- 
spiratorial manner  that  brought  his  humour  back  again. 
In  the  meantime  others  joined  us,  bringing  the  evening's 
newspapers  with  them ;  for  the  story  was  now  the  property 
of  the  town.  Later  that  night  a  pencilled  note  was 
handed  to  him.  He  passed  it  over  to  me.  It  was  a  report 
from  an  I.R.A.  picket  at  Kingstown  that  Hardy  had  left 
by  the  mail-boat  that  evening. 

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§2 

So  failed  the  first  and  the  last  attempt  to  Strike  at  the 
organization  of  war  from  within.  In  fact,  for  the  first 
time  in  history  Dublin  Castle  found  itself  in  the  position 
in  which  hitherto  it  had  placed  revolutionary  organiza- 
tions. Hitherto  it  had  had  its  tentacles  Stretched  within 
the  inmost  councils  of  such  organizations,  while  being 
itself  aloof  and  unsearched.  Now  the  case  was  other- 
wise. The  I.R.A.  (for  Sinn  Fein  was  now  fast  becoming 
less  an  organization  than  a  name;  and  the  Republican 
Government  itself  sometimes  awoke  of  a  morning  to 
learn  what  it  had  done)  was  now  aloof  and  unsearched, 
having  its  tentacles  in  the  secret  archives  of  the  Castle. 
Whenever  it  struck  (whatever  final  judgment  history  may 
give  of  some  of  its  blows)  it  struck  with  desperate 
accuracy,  whereas  the  R.I.C.  and  the  military,  whether 
moved  by  the  Castle  or  not,  struck  blunderingly — harm- 
fully perhaps,  but  blunderingly. 

Two  examples  occurred  of  this  at  this  time — one  on 
each  side.  On  the  20th  of  March  all  Ireland  learnt  with 
horror  that  Alderman  Tom  McCurtin  (the  Tom  McCurtin 
whom  we  had  known  and  loved  in  Reading  Gaol,  and 
now  Lord  Mayor  of  Cork)  had  been  brutally  murdered 
in  his  home  the  previous  night.  This  was  the  culmina- 
tion of  a  series  of  reprisals.  A  short  time  before  a  district 
inspector  and  head  constable  of  the  R.I.C.  had  been  shot 
at,  and  missed,  in  the  streets  of  Cork;  and  this  was  the 
reply.  At  once  it  was  put  about  by  the  Castle  that  Tom 
McCurtin  had  been  shot  by  his  own  comrades  because 
he  had  declined  to  let  the  funds  of  the  Cork  Corporation 

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RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

be  used  for  warfare.  Now  we  who  knew  Tom  McCurtin, 
knew  how  fantastic  and  outrageous  such  a  suggestion 
was.  No  man  could  have  been  held  in  higher  respect, 
or  regarded  with  greater  love,  than  he,  not  less  by  those 
who  disagreed  with  him  than  by  those  who  shared  his 
counsels.  To  his  work,  more  than  to  the  work  of  any 
other  single  man,  the  organization  of  the  I.R.A.  in  South 
Cork  was  due.  He  held  rather  a  midway  place  between 
those  who  (in  a  rather  stupid  terminology)  were  termed 
extremist  and  those  who  were  termed  moderate.  He  was 
trusted  by  both;  and,  though  of  what  I  may  call  the  war- 
party,  his  influence  was  always  conservative  and  con- 
structive, drawing  both  sides  to  an  agreed  unity.  His 
murder  precipitated  violence  in  the  South;  and  the  blow 
by  which  he  was  struck  was  a  blundering  one. 

At  the  coroner's  inquest  the  evidence  indicated  quite 
clearly  that  the  crime  had  been  instigated  by  District 
Inspector  Swanzy.  Even  his  superior,  the  County  In- 
spector, so  demonstrably  washed  his  hands  of  responsi- 
bility in  the  witness-box,  as  to  make  it  evident  that  he 
knew,  or  suspected,  more  than  he  cared  to  say.  In  any 
event,  the  jury  returned  a  verdict  that  caused  much 
derision  at  the  time.  They  found  a  verdict  of  murder 
against  a  long  list  of  persons,  among  whom  were  in- 
cluded Mr.  Lloyd  George,  Lord  French,  Mr.  Ian  Mac- 
pherson,  the  Irish  Chief  Secretary,  and  District  Inspector 
Swanzy.  It  was  easy  to  deride  a  sentence  so  embracive 
and  promiscuous,  for  indeed  it  was  less  a  verdict  than  an 
indignant  indictment.  Nothing  was  done,  however;  and 
Swanzy  disappeared.  The  I.R.A.  decided,  therefore,  to 
execute  the  verdict;  and  five  months  afterwards,  on  the 

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7th  of  August,  Swanzy  was  shot  at  Lisburn,  where  he 
was  then  stationed,  as  he  entered  a  church.  Lisburn 
being  an  Orange  town,  Swanzy's  death  was  followed  by 
the  burning  of  nearly  every  Catholic's  home  there  in  a 
night  of  fury  and  terror. 

Tom  McCurtin's  murder  was  a  tragedy  (in  the  strict 
meaning  of  an  abused  word);  but  it  was  also  a  blundering 
blow.  Seven  days  after  his  murder,  however,  on  the  27th 
of  March,  the  streets  of  Dublin  rang  with  the  tidings  that 
Mr.  Alan  Bell  had  that  morning,  in  broad  daylight,  been 
taken  o':t  of  a  tram-car  and  shot  before  the  eyes  of 
his  ff'iow-passengers,  his  assailants  escaping  without 
h)r.urance.  When  the  news  came  to  me,  I  at  once  made 
inquiries  as  to  the  cause  of  it;  and  I  learned  that  Mr. 
Alan  Bell  had  been  working  at  the  organization  of  a 
special  spy  service.  He  and  John  Taylor  had,  thirty 
years  before,  undone  the  Land  League  by  the  creation  of 
just  such  a  service.  Since  then  Sir  John  Taylor  had  been 
knighted,  and  was  now  the  dominant  force  in  Dublin 
Castle  as  Assistant  Under-Secretary.  Mr.  Bell  had  be- 
come a  Resident  Magistrate;  but,  shortly  before  this,  Sir 
John  Taylor  had  brought  his  old  colleague  to  his  side  to 
organize  this  special  service,  from  his  intimate  know- 
ledge of  the  country  and  his  experience  in  this  kind  of 
work.  Little  either  of  them  knew  that  his  labour  was 
being  watched  by  a  service  as  intimate  as  any  he  could 
have  wrought. 

I  do  not  write  in  any  defence  of  his  assassination.  Of 
that  kind  of  procedure  I  have  always  had  my  judgment; 
and  later  events  have  but  confirmed  these  judgments, 
have  confirmed  my  belief  that  the  same  end  might  have 

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RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

been  gained  by  other  means,  with  a  higher  and  better 
moral  effect  when  national  liberty  was  gained.  As  a 
mere  matter  of  historical  fact,  however,  the  truth  remains 
that  the  death  of  Alan  Bell  was  a  blow  deadly  in  its 
accuracy;  for  it  meant  that  the  work  at  which  he  was 
occupied  fell  to  pieces  and  remained  undone. 

§3 

The  contest,  however,  was  not  only  being  fought  by 
force  and  fury.  It  was  being  conducted,  perhaps  even 
more  keenly,  in  the  civil  sphere.  In  January,  1920,  elec- 
tions had  been  held  for  municipal  and  other  local  bodies 
throughout  Ireland;  and  for  the  first  time  these  elections 
had  been  held  by  Proportional  Representation.  This 
method  of  election  had  been  ordained  by  the  British 
Parliament  with  a  view  to  weakening  the  power  of  Sinn 
Fein,  since,  throughout  the  greater  part  of  the  country, 
elections  held  by  the  old  method  would  have  swept  all 
other  parties  from  the  field.  When  the  intention  to  sub- 
stitute Proportional  Representation  had  first  been  sug- 
gested, a  motion  had  been  made,  in  the  Ard-Fheis  of 
April,  1919,  to  agitate  against  it,  because  of  the  intention 
that  obviously  inspired  it;  but  Sinn  Fein  had  always 
advocated  P.R.,  in  the  days  when  it  was  in  a  minority, 
as  just  and  right;  and  when  the  Ard-Fheis  was  urged, 
now  that  it  represented  a  majority,  to  stand  by  its  avowed 
principles,  the  motion  had  failed  to  carry  a  single  vote. 
By  P.R.,  therefore,  the  elections  had  been  held;  and  by 
P.R.,  searching  test  though  the  method  gave,  Sinn  Fein 
carried  a  sweeping  majority  on  very  nearly  every  public 

290 


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board  in  the  country,  gaining  representation  even  within 
the  Orange  stronghold  of  the  Belfast  Corporation. 

All  die  public  bodies,  as  a  result,  had  elected  Re- 
publican chairmen,  and  all  gave  their  allegiance,  by 
resolution,  to  the  Republican  Government,  pledging 
themselves  to  take  no  orders  from  the  Local  Government 
Board  of  the  British  Government,  unless  instructed  to  do 
so,  for  purposes  of  convenience,  by  the  Republican 
Government,  and  to  act  under  the  control  of  the  Local 
Government  Department  of  the  Republican  Government. 
It  is  hardly  necessary  to  point  to  the  drastic  change  that 
this  meant — a  change  upon  which  history  was  never  to 
return.  It  meant  that  an  entire  branch  of  the  Castle's 
ornamental  tree  (once  so  bravely  flourishing,  and  already 
grievously  sickled  from  its  prime)  was  lopped  at  a  blow, 
and  that  the  little  branch  of  the  Republican  Government, 
calling  itself  by  the  same  name,  was  strengthened  and 
enlarged  to  take  its  place.  The  difficulties  were,  of 
course,  stupendous;  for  the  Republican  Government  was 
hunted;  and  to  create  a  department  of  this  magnitude 
under  cover,  with  its  Ministers  "  on  their  keeping,"  its 
officials  unknown,  and  its  instructions  conveyed  secretly, 
was  a  task  as  intricate  as  it  was  formidable.  Yet  the 
difficulties  were  overcome;  and  the  task,  now  begun,  was 
successfully  accomplished,  though  its  accomplishment 
brought  some  of  the  local  bodies  to  the  verge  of  bank- 
ruptcy for  the  lack  of  monetary  grants-in-aid. 

After  Easter,  moreover,  another  department  of  the  Re- 
publican Government  was  started.  The  yearly  land 
agitation  had  risen  again,  as  usual,  on  the  fringe  of  the 
congested  districts;  and  it  presented  a  problem  that  the 

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RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

Republican  Government  could  not  neglect  It  happened 
that  I  was  the  first  from  Dublin  to  come  into  touch  with 
it;  for  I  had  rested  during  Easier  in  Achill,  and  passing 
through  Mayo  certain  solicitors  and  others  had  repre- 
sented the  seriousness  of  the  situation  to  me.  Lands  were 
being  seized  right  and  left,  generally  by  those  whose  hold- 
ings were  insufficient  to  maintain  a  livelihood,  but  in 
many  cases  by  men  who  took  advantage  of  disturbance 
and  disorder  to  augment  holdings  that  were,  it  is  true, 
none  too  large,  but  sufficient  for  their  needs  withal.  I 
was  told  that  a  situation  had  arisen  that  would,  if  it  were 
not  grappled  instantly  and  in  a  statesmanlike  manner, 
engulf  that  part  of  the  country  in  a  trouble  that  might 
overwhelm  the  straighter  national  issue. 

On  my  return  to  Dublin  I  reported  the  matter  to 
Arthur  Griffith,  and  urged  that  a  special  department  of 
the  Republican  Government  should  be  created  to  deal 
with  the  situation.  It  was  characteristic  of  Griffith  that 
he  should  hesitate,  for  it  was  his  rule  never  to  undertake 
responsibilities  for  his  Government  unless  he  saw  clearly 
in  advance  that  they  could  be  carried  with  success.  No 
one  recognized  better  than  he  that  his  putative  Govern- 
ment would  be  judged,  at  home  and  abroad,  not  by  its 
protestations,  but  by  its  accomplishment.  He  went 
warily,  therefore,  and  looked  askance  at  new  commit- 
ments until  they  were  forced  upon  him.  Yet  the  enforce- 
ment was  soon  to  follow.  Cattle-driving  and  death- 
notices  accumulated,  and  led  finally  to  violence  of  a 
nature  that  could  not  be  neglected.  In  Co.  Roscommon 
a  landowner  who  had  defied  threatenings  was  driven 
naked  through  a  crowded  fair;  and  in  Co.  Galway  (both 

292 


WAR 


counties  through  which  ranch-land  marched  with  the  con- 
gested districts)  a  landowner  was  ducked  publicly  in  a 
pond  till  he  acceded  to  the  demands  made  on  him,  and 
another  landowner,  Mr.  Shaw-Taylor,  whose  property 
consisted  mainly  of  ranch-land,  was  shot  dead.  Then 
action  became  imperative. 

Action  became  imperative  for  a  number  of  reasons 
that  fitted  together  to  make  a  tessellated  pattern  of  persua- 
sion. The  Republican  Government,  in  the  first  place, 
had  either  to  be  a  Government  or  not  to  be  a  Govern- 
ment; and,  in  the  second  place,  it  had  to  keep  the 
national  demand  for  freedom  clear  from  class  issues  or 
be  caught  in  the  snare  of  a  class  war.  The  inactivity  of 
the  British  Government  in  the  face  of  these  threatenings 
was  its  own  warning  from  both  these  points  of  view.  It 
is  true  that  that  inactivity  was  due  in  part  to  the  fact  that 
the  R.I.C.  had  as  much  as  it  could  do  to  maintain  itself 
in  the  stations  to  which  it  had  been  withdrawn,  and  that 
it  was  almost  powerless  as  a  police  force;  but  it  is  also 
true  that  Dublin  Castle  would  have  been  well  content  to 
see  the  larger  pretensions  of  the  Republican  Government 
crumble  into  the  general  disorder  of  an  agrarian  war, 
especially  as  such  a  war  would  be  internal  and  might 
split  the  ranks  of  the  I.R.A.  It  was  imperative,  there- 
fore, that  some  constructive  action  should  be  undertaken 
so  as  to  cure  the  evil  and  save  disaster. 

Such  was  the  origin  of  the  Republican  Land  Com- 
mission that,  during  this  year,  saved  what  seemed  an 
almost  impossible  situation,  and  made  landowners  realize 
that  the  national  Government,  to  which  they  were  so 
bitterly  hostile,  not  only  meant  impartial  justice  to  all 

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RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

parties,  but  was,  in  fact,  the  only  body  to  which  they 
could  look  with  confidence  for  the  administration  of  such 
justice.  Not  at  once  was  this  Commission  established. 
The  first  attempt  to  cure  the  evil  was  less  ambitious;  for 
on  the  17th  of  May  the  Minister  for  Agriculture  of  the 
Republican  Government,  attended  by  Kevin  O'Shiel  as 
his  legal  assessor,  sat  in  Ballinrobe,  Co.  Mayo,  to  try  the 
most  urgent  of  the  cases  that  had  come  to  notice.  His 
judgment  in  that  case  went  against  those  who  had  seized 
the  land  in  dispute.  When  that  judgment  was  openly 
defied  the  matter  was  put  into  the  hands  of  the  I.R.A., 
who  one  night,  a  fortnight  after  the  judgment,  arrested 
the  offending  parties  and  removed  them  to  "  an  unknown 
destination  " — a  phrase  that  afterwards  became  current 
to  describe  Republican  places  of  detention  for  prisoners. 
This  was  startling;  and  I  well  remember  that  shock  with 
which  the  news  was  received;  for  the  men  who  effected 
the  arrest  were  of  the  same  social  order  as  those  who  had 
seized  land,  and  the  test  of  discipline  that  this  meant  can 
only  be  realized  by  those  who  know  how  intensely 
agrarian  disputes  can  bind  a  community  in  Ireland, 
particularly  in  the  congested  districts. 

Quickly  upon  this  followed  a  decree  of  the  Ministry  for 
Home  Affairs,  dated  die  29th  of  June,  establishing  courts 
to  try  cases  of  seized  and  disputed  lands;  and  then  Dail 
Eireann  (meeting  always  in  secret)  founded  the  Land 
Commission,  as  a  separate  branch  of  the  Republican 
Judiciary,  under  the  Department  for  Agriculture,  to  deal 
with  all  land  cases.  Thus  was  seen  the  remarkable 
spectacle  of  a  land  commissioner,  sitting  with  full 
powers  as  a  judge,  moving  publicly  on  circuit  through 

294 


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the  country,  holding  open  courts  on  behalf  of  a  pro- 
claimed Republican  Government,  with  solicitors  and 
counsel  of  the  courts  of  the  British  Government  appear- 
ing before  him  on  behalf  of  landowners  who  supported 
one  Government  and  on  behalf  of  tenants  who  supported 
the  other.  Impossible  to  break  up  such  courts — though 
this  was  afterwards  attempted.  Were  they  not  administer- 
ing justice,  where  there  was  none  other  to  undertake  this 
necessary  duty?  Were  not  landlords  of  unimpeachable 
reputation  and  loyalty  represented  by  counsel,  of  reputa- 
tion and  loyalty  equally  unimpeachable,  at  these  courts? 
Therefore,  though  the  very  Government  that  brought  the 
Commission  into  being  was  proclaimed  and  its  Ministers 
hunted,  its  land  courts  were  publicly  held  and  publicly 
attended,  with  the  I.R.A.  as  its  public  officers,  while  the 
R.I.C.  kept  to  their  barracks. 

I  wonder  if  such  a  spectacle  of  such  peculiar  and 
delicious  irony  has  ever  been  seen  in  any  country.  The 
land  courts,  indeed,  did  work  of  permanent,  as  well  as 
of  immediate,  value.  Their  success  was  due  to  their  first 
Commissioner,  Ivtr.  Kevin  O'Shiel.  I  remember  at  the 
time  reading  the  speeches  with  which  he  always  opened 
the  proceedings  in  a  new  place.  Not  only  were  they 
dignified,  but  they  were  specially  educative  and  salutary, 
peculiarly  suited  to  a  country  in  which  law  had  for 
centuries  been  regarded,  not  as  the  expression  of  the 
communal  will,  but  as  a  subtle  form  of  oppression. 
Always  he  emphasized  that  the  courts  at  which  he  pre- 
sided were  the  people's  courts;  that  he  was  merely  the 
expression  of  the  people's  will;  that  the  judgments  he 
gave  were  the  people's  judgments;  and  that  it  was  there- 

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RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

fore  for  the  people  to  guard  their  dignities  jealously  and 
to  regard  those  who  quarrelled  against  those  judgments 
as  offenders  against  the  people's  will. 

These  truths  were  just  what  was  needed;  and  Kevin 
O'Shiel  recognized  a  further  need  by  perfect  candour, 
on  the  one  hand,  and  scrupulous  heed  to  dignity  and 
manner  and  ceremonial  on  the  other — excellent  accom- 
paniments one  of  another.  I  remember  seeing  him  hold 
a  court  in  a  little  dingy  room  in  a  dingy  town  in  the 
West.  The  conditions  were  depressing  enough;  but 
pomp  and  formality  invested  even  those  conditions  with 
dignity.  The  case  being  argued  while  I  was  there  was 
brought  at  the  suit  of  one  of  the  largest  landowners  of 
that  part  of  the  country.  Yet  not  only  did  he  enforce 
dignity,  but  some  of  his  judgments  were  uncommonly 
shrewd  and  wise.  One  aroused  a  certain  fame  at  the 
time,  and  is  worth  recounting.  A  father  had  left  his 
farm  to  his  two  sons.  The  elder,  being  married,  worked 
the  farm,  and  the  younger  lived  with  him — till  he,  too, 
desired  to  marry.  Then  the  elder  brother  refused  to 
divide  the  farm;  and  the  younger  brother  sued  him  in 
the  Republican  land  courts.  Kevin  O'Shiel's  judgment 
was  that  the  elder  brother  should  divide  the  farm  in  two 
halves  as  and  how  he  wished,  but  that  the  younger 
brother  should  have  first  choice  which  half  he  should 
take  for  his  portion.  Truly  a  judgment  that  Solomon 
might  envy — and  with  the  touch  of  humour  well  beloved 
of  all  honest  folk. 


296 


WAR 


U 

These  land  courts  were  of  the  greatest  importance  in 
die  War.  They  were  followed  at  once  by  an  organized 
judiciary  system  for  all  manner  of  cases;  but  it  was  the 
land  courts  that  prompted  the  organization  of  this 
system,  and  it  was  the  land  courts  that  ensured  for  the 
other  courts  the  freedom  of  operation  that  was  at  first 
accorded  to  them,  without  which  they  might  not  have 
been  able  to  establish  themselves  as  they  did.  The  land 
courts,  in  fact,  not  only  effectually  and  remarkably  cured 
the  evil  that  had  been  threatened,  but  they  made  an 
admirable  screen  behind  which  other  courts  could  begin 
their  work.  They  did  this  simply  because,  whereas  the 
other  courts,  for  the  trial  of  all  ordinary  litigation,  were 
resorted  to,  not  by  the  gentry  who  were  the  support  of 
Dublin  Castle,  but  by  those  who  voted  for  Republican 
deputies,  they  themselves  were  chiefly  availed  of  the  class 
that  had  landed  property  to  save.  To  this  fact  they  owed 
their  immunity.  Impossible  to  arrest  the  very  garrison 
of  the  Castle.  Impossible  also  to  squelch  courts  without 
arresting  those  who  took  their  cases.  But  impossible,  too, 
to  squelch  other  courts,  handling  smaller  cases,  while 
land  courts  were  publicly  held  and  immune  from  molesta- 
tion. So  it  was  possible  to  establish  an  entire  Republican 
judicial  system;  and  when  finally  it  was  decided  to  stamp 
out  this  system,  to  hunt  its  judges  and  magistrates,  and 
to  prohibit  the  holding  of  its  courts,  the  system  was  too 
well  rooted  to  be  uptorn,  and  was  able  to  continue  its 
work  under  cover. 

Here  also  a  change  was  made  upon  which  the  country 

297 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

was  not  to  return.  Lacking  an  administrative  organiza- 
tion of  its  own,  the  only  organization  available  for  the 
creation  of  a  judicial  system  was  that  of  Sinn  Fein, 
through  which  arbitration  courts  had  already  been  begun 
in  1918.  Within  its  units,  of  the  parish  and  the  con- 
stituency, therefore,  courts  were  instituted  for  the  hear- 
ing of  criminal  cases  and  cases  in  equity.  At  first  there 
were  a  good  many  irregularities.  The  I.R.A.  had  already 
established  a  police  of  its  own  for  the  maintenance  of 
order  in  districts  from  which  the  R.I.C.  had  been  with- 
drawn; and  army  officers  sat,  often  in  uniform,  as 
judges.  But  in  time  magistrates  were  elected  by  the 
Sinn  Fein  Cumainn,  and  they  took  over  this  work  for 
both  parish  and  district  courts,  while  for  larger  cases, 
including  appeals  from  the  district  courts,  special  judges 
were  appointed  from  members  of  the  Irish  Bar. 

Before  many  months  had  passed,  the  greater  part  of 
the  judicial  work  of  the  country  (except  the  larger  com- 
mercial and  Chancery  cases  that  went  to  the  Dublin  Four 
Courts)  had  been  swept  from  the  British  courts  into  the 
Republican  courts.  Judges  went  on  circuit,  but  had  few 
cases,  sometimes  no  cases  at  all,  to  hear,  and  had  diffi- 
culty even  in  getting  jurors;  whereas  county  courts  and 
magistrates'  courts  were  everywhere  idle. 

It  was  claimed,  of  course,  that  this  result  was  won  by 
pure  intimidation.  It  is  true  that  an  occasional  touch 
of  the  spur  of  intimidation  was  applied,  for  the  condi- 
tions were  those  of  war,  and  what  is  war  but  intimida- 
tion? Hardly  could  that  spur,  however,  reach  the  sides 
of  the  litigious,  though  it  was  unquestionably  used  for 
jurors.    Yet  I  know  from  my  own  experience  that  it  was 

298 


WAR 


not  intimidation  that  brought  the  greater  part  of  cases 
to  the  new  courts.  I  had  been  elected  chairman  of  the 
district  court  for  South  City  Dublin;  also  I  came  in  touch 
with  folk  who  frequented  the  courts  throughout  the 
country;  and  I  know  that  the  people  came  to  the  new 
courts  mainly  because  they  desired  to  participate  in  the 
change  of  system,  and  to  a  considerable  extent  because 
they  relished  the  simple,  straightforward,  frequently  non- 
legal  equity  administered  there.  I  remember  an  Ameri- 
can lawyer,  who  was  present  at  one  of  these  courts,  and 
had  been  speaking  with  some  of  the  litigants,  comment- 
ing upon  this  evident  relish;  and  saying,  after  an  examina- 
tion of  some  of  the  judgments  that  had  been  given,  that 
black-letter  law,  working  upon  an  incrustation  of  pre- 
cedents, inevitably  withdrew  further  and  further  from  a 
living,  inherent,  communal  sense  of  justice,  and  required 
just  so  robust  a  return  to  reality  occasionally  for  its  re- 
freshment. 

Yet  this  charge  of  intimidation  as  the  cause  of  the 
success  of  the  new  courts  is  absurd  on  the  face  of  it.  Not 
only  is  it  manifest  that  no  amount  of  intimidation  could 
be  sufficient  to  cause  a  change  so  prompt  and  widespread, 
but  the  new  courts  soon  were  hunted  by  the  military 
and  later  by  wild  and  fearful  bands  of  Black-and-Tans 
and  Auxiliaries.  They  broke  in  upon  sittings  of  the 
courts,  when  these  sittings  were  discovered,  with  bayonets 
fixed  and  revolvers  brandished.  Judges  had  to  find  their 
way  to  secret  places  stealthily  and  often  disguised, 
litigants  had  to  be  escorted  to  them  secretly  and  by 
appointment.  For  a  time  it  became  almost  impossible  to 
hold  them,  so  great  were  the  difficulties,  so  perilous  the 

299 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

dangers;  and  when  stealth  and  secrecy,  in  the  administra- 
tion of  justice,  were  better  organized  and  worked  more 
smoothly,  the  business  of  the  courts  thrived  as  before. 
It  was  certainly  not  intimidation  brought  business  to  the 
new  courts  under  these  conditions.     Rather,  intimidation 
went  the  other  way,  since  terror  strove  to  dissuade  and  not 
to  persuade.     I  remember  myself  on  occasion  going  to 
preside  at  one  of  these  courts  at  night  under  the  footrug 
of  a  motor-car,  and  in  a  lonely  room  in  a  dark  lane 
seeing  litigants,  solicitors,  and  counsel  find  their  way  there 
furtively  for  the  hearing  of  cases  in  which  considerable 
sums  of  money  were  involved.     Assuredly  it  was  not 
intimidation  that  spelt  success  to  such  conditions.  .  .  . 
Yet,  perhaps  it  was  intimidation :   albeit  an  intimidation 
that  went  strangely  awry  in  the  working. 


§5 

During  these  months  the  Commission  of  Inquiry  also 
continued  its  work.  It  had  already  learnt  valuable 
lessons,  as  a  consequence  of  which  it  had  bravely  changed 
its  procedure — changed,  indeed,  the  procedure  till  then 
adopted,  and  still  continued,  in  all  Commissions  of 
Inquiry,  great  and  small.  It  had  intended  to  make  an 
itinerary  of  leading  cities,  towns,  and  districts  to  hear 
evidence  on  the  subjects  it  had  selected  for  first  reference, 
but  circumstances  helped  to  teach  wisdom  and  economy. 

At  Limerick  the  Commission  encountered  the  same 
difficulties  as  at  Cork.  On  the  morning  when  the  Com- 
mission was  to  have  sat  in  state  in  the  City  Hall — with 
Michael  O'Callaghan,  one  of  its  members  and  Mayor  of 

300 


WAR 


the  city,  to  open  the  proceedings — the  local  District 
Inspector  of  police  waited  on  the  secretary  in  full  regalia 
to  inform  him  that  he  was  instructed  to  stop  its  work,  by 
force  if  necessary.  Yet  he  was  a  temperate  and  courteous 
man,  having  a  sense  of  humour  and  wisdom  withal.  He 
admitted  that  however  things  went  the  Commission 
would  probably  complete  the  work  it  had  come  to  do, 
and  that  he  and  his  forces  (sixty  of  whom,  with  carbines, 
we  had  just  seen  march  to  the  City  Hall)  would  doubtless 
be  made  to  look  lugubrious  at  the  heel  of  the  hunt.  Yet 
what,  he  asked,  was  he  to  do?  Orders  were  orders. 
We  came,  therefore,  to  an  understanding  by  which  each 
agreed  to  save  the  other  much  inconvenience.  He  agreed 
to  watch  the  City  Hall  with  his  forces,  and  to  watch  it 
with  such  zeal  that  he  would  have  none  to  spare  for  other 
parts  of  the  city.  We  agreed  to  let  the  City  Hall  alone. 
He  agreed  not  to  become  aware  that  we  might  perhaps 
have  gone  elsewhere  till  the  third  day.  We  agreed  by 
that  third  day  to  have  done  our  work  and  to  have  left 
the  city  without  noise  and  publicity.  And  we  each  kept 
our  parts  of  the  pact.  His  forces  marched  and  counter- 
marched round  the  City  Hall  while,  as  all  the  city  knew, 
we  heard  our  evidence  from  its  leading  citizens  in  the 
St.  Mary's  Hall,  where  the  Mayor  presided  in  his  chain 
of  office.  At  noon  on  the  third  day  his  forces  marched 
to  the  St.  Mary's  Hall,  and  at  noon  on  that  day  we 
returned  to  Dublin,  our  work  accomplished. 

Yet,  when  we  had  heard  our  evidence  it  was  patent 
that  most  of  it  was  to  little  purpose,  indicating,  rather, 
what  had  yet  to  be  discovered  than  furnishing  that  dis- 
covery.    We  came  therefore  to  the  conclusion  that  this 

301 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

method  of  inquiry  by  caravanserai  was,  like  many  ether 
things  more  honoured  in  their  antiquity  than  in  their 
practical  value,  as  purposeless  as  it  was  expensive.  So  we 
changed  our  method  to  that  of  direct  inquiry  by  staff- 
work,  to  be  augmented  by  special  evidence  as  and  when 
this  was  found  to  be  necessary.  To  this  change  of  method 
I  attribute  the  fact  that  the  Commission  was  able  during 
the  short  time  of  its  existence,  to  present  so  many  reports 
covering  so  wide  a  range  of  subjects,  for  it  was  able  in 
this  way  to  economize  both  its  energies  and  its  slender 
finances.  Also  we  reduced  the  chances  of  conflict  with 
Dublin  Castle  to  the  smallest  point,  for,  like  every  other 
branch  of  the  work  of  the  Republican  Government,  except 
the  military,  our  ideal  was  to  function  and  to  get  work 
done  rather  than  to  find  opportunities  of  collision. 

Nevertheless,  collision  occurred,  and  led  to  a  scene 
that  made  a  great  noise  at  the  time.  It  is  worth  re- 
telling, for  few  things  could  be  more  typical  of  the 
terror  that  began  this  summer  to  prevail  throughout  the 
entire  country. 

In  the  absence  of  public  departments  on  which  to  lean 
for  skilled  information  it  had  been  decided  by  the  Com- 
mission to  make  use  of  the  staffs  of  public  bodies.  The 
County  Councils  were  therefore  circulated,  and  asked  to 
gather  certain  required  information  through  their  sur- 
veyors. To  help  further  to  this  end  deputations  from  the 
Commission  waited  on  the  County  Councils.  The  first 
of  these  meetings  was  at  Co.  Monaghan,  and  when  we 
went  there  we  found  that  the  County  Council  had  been 
prohibited  by  the  police  from  hearing  us.  A  body  of 
police  was  actually  present  at  the  meeting  of  the  Council, 

302 


WAR 

prepared  to  break  it  up  if  our  deputation  were  heard. 
At  Wexford  we  were  more  successful,  for  there  we  took 
the  precaution  to  cause  no  notification  of  our  business  to 
appear  on  the  agenda  paper.  And  in  July  we  went  to 
Carrick-on-Shannon  for  a  joint  meeting  of  the  Councils 
of  Co.  Roscommon  and  Co.  Leitrim,  to  be  held  with  a 
view  to  discovering  if  the  coal-deposits  of  the  Arigna 
district  could,  in  the  coal  scarcity  of  the  time,  be  turned 
to  practical  advantage.  Our  deputation  on  that  occasion 
consisted  of  Colonel  Maurice  Moore,  C.B.,  at  that  time 
the  Chairman  of  the  Commission,  and  myself.  It  was  this 
meeting  that  looked  at  one  time  as  if  it  would  end  fatally. 

We  were  in  the  midst  of  our  business  when  the  door 
of  the  Council  Chamber  was  flung  open  and  a  body  of 
military  entered,  with  bayonets  fixed,  led  by  two  officers, 
a  captain  and  a  lieutenant,  each  with  large  revolvers  in 
their  hands.  Their  leader  was  in  a  state  of  great  excite- 
ment, and  at  once  strode  to  the  Chairman  of  the  Leitrim 
County  Council,  who  was  presiding,  and  asked  him  if 
he  were  responsible  for  the  proceedings.  Hearing  that 
he  was  the  captain  ordered .  his  arrest.  Challenged  to 
show  his  authority,  the  captain  instantly  put  his  revolver 
to  his  prisoner's  head,  saying,  "  This  is  my  authority : 
is  it  good  enough?"  and  I  was  in  fear  lest  he  should 
shoot,  for  he  had  entirely  lost  control  of  himself. 

Having  sent  his  prisoner  to  the  guard-room,  the  cap- 
tain turned  his  attention  to  the  rest  of  us.  We  were 
utterly  in  his  power,  for  the  Council  Chamber  at  Carrick 
is  in  the  Court-house,  and  the  Court-house  was  held  as  a 
military  barracks  and  fort  surrounded  by  wire  entangle- 
ments, within  which  marched  sentries,  fully  armed,  from 

303 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

point  to  point.  At  first  we  were  told  that  we  would  all 
be  held  till  the  morrow,  but  then  Colonel  Moore  stepped 
in,  and,  serious  though  the  position  was,  it  was  amusing 
to  note  how  our  captain  unwillingly,  truculently,  yet 
compulsively,  reacted  to  the  practised  accent  of  military 
command.  "  We  are  the  top-dogs  here  now,"  said  he, 
shaking  his  revolver  at  Colonel  Moore.  '  Yes,"  said 
Moore  frigidly,  ''  that  is  precisely  what  you  are.  You 
have  said  it."  "  Well,  sir,"  came  the  instant  rejoinder 
(as  a  soldier  might  instantly,  beyond  his  volition,  spring 
to  die  command  of  attention),  "what  are  we  to  do?" 
"  You  will  let  us  out  from  this  now,"  said  Moore.  '  Such 
preposterous  nonsense  as  to  keep  us  hanging  about  here." 

So  our  captain  decided  to  liberate  us,  but  took  our 
names  in  turn  in  order  to  know  whom  his  company  con- 
tained. As  it  came  to  my  turn  I  hesitated.  It  would 
have  been  but  ordinary  wisdom  to  have  given  another 
name,  but  there  was  a  large  company  standing  by,  and 
a  question  of  public  discipline  was  involved.  So  I  gave 
my  own  name.  The  effect  on  the  captain  was  startling. 
It  is  hard  for  me  not  to  appear  to  exaggerate  that  effect, 
for  indeed  he  behaved  like  a  villain  in  melodrama — a 
dangerous  villain,  with  almost  unlimited  power  in  his 
hand.  He  levelled  his  revolver  at  me  and  ordered  my 
instant  arrest,  exclaiming  excitedly,  "  I  know  you,  Figgis; 
you  are  one  of  the  leaders  of  Sinn  Fein;  you  are  one  of 
the  heads  of  treason  " — a  charge  that  I  could  not  admit 
with  truth  or  disavow  without  cowardice.  ;<  I  have  you 
now,"  he  shouted.  "  Keep  hold  of  him.  Take  him  to 
the  guard-room." 

In  the  guard-room  I  found  the  Chairman  in  care  of 

3°4 


WAR 

a  corporal's  squad.  The  soldiers  were  amused  at  their 
officer's  antics,  but  it  was  not  an  amusing  matter  for  us, 
and  we  were  soon  to  learn  that  fact.  For  when  he  had 
sent  away  die  rest  of  the  company  he  came  to  the  guard- 
room, and  covering  us  with  his  revolver,  announced  his 
intention  to  try  us  instantly  by  drum-head  court-martial. 
I  looked  at  the  man  in  amazement.  At  first  I  had 
thought  that  he  was  drunk,  but  now  I  saw  that  he  was 
not  drunk.  I  wondered  therefore  how  it  came  about 
that  an  officer,  so  clearly  mad,  should  continue  in 
authority.  It  was  not  till  afterwards  that  I  learned  that 
he  had  but  a  few  days  been  liberated  from  hospital  after 
a  drinking  bout  followed  by  delirium  tremens.  With 
every  movement  that  I  made  he  covered  me  at  once  with 
his  revolver,  his  finger  on  the  trigger,  and  had  I  once 
lost  control  he  would  certainly  have  shot.  Only  by  speak- 
ing to  him  coldly,  as  though  I  and  not  he  were  in  com- 
mand, was  he  held  in  check.  I  had  in  fact  to  keep  control 
of  him  by  firm  control  of  myself,  without  releasing  that 
control  for  one  instant. 

So  the  monstrous  farce  of  the  trial  continued.  The 
Chairman  was  first  tried,  and  acquitted  after  a  harangue 
on  the  love  due  to  his  King.  Then  my  turn  came,  and 
I  was  searched.  A  few  old  papers  bearing  the  letter-head 
of  Sinn  Fein  (the  existence  of  which  I  had  long  forgotten) 
were  found  in  my  pocket-book,  and  these  were  taken  as 
proof  of  my  guilt.  I  was  therefore  sentenced  to  be 
hanged,  the  sentence  to  be  executed  at  once  without  any 
delay.  Turning  to  his  sergeant  he  ordered  him  to  pur- 
chase a  rope  at  once,  and  went  out  with  him  to  see  that 
the  order  was  executed. 

305  x 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

That  the  situation  was  absurd  did  not  make  it  any 
the  less  desperate,  for  it  was  clear  to  us  all  that  he  meant 
to  execute  his  sentence.  His  soldiers  were  terrified,  but 
when  I  protested  to  them  in  his  absence  they  replied  that 
they  did  not  want  him  to  turn  upon  them.  Yet  he  was 
cunning  as  a  fox.  When,  on  his  return,  I  pointed  out 
that  the  consequences  of  his  action  might  prove  serious, 
he  replied,  "  So  that's  what  you're  thinking.  Well,  if 
there's  a  little  noise  for  a  time  they'll  be  thankful  to  me 
for  having  got  rid  of  you,  and  it'll  mean  promotion  in 
the  end  " — and  as  things  stood  then  in  Ireland  he  was 
probably  not  wrong. 

My  efforts  were  then  bent  towards  getting  into  touch 
with  the  world  outside.  For  the  rope  had  been  brought 
in,  and  I  was  playing  desperately  for  time,  using  every 
shift  to  hold  him  in  argument  and  never  once  releasing 
control,  for  loss  of  control  meant  a  quick  end.  I  asked 
to  see  a  chaplain,  and  the  request  was  refused.  I  desired 
to  send  a  telegram  to  my  wife,  and  this,  too,  was  refused. 
I  turned  upon  politics  and  brought  him  into  an  argu- 
ment, and  while  this  continued  his  lieutenant  entered, 
spoke  to  him,  and  the  two  of  them  left  the  guard-room 
together. 

On  his  return  I  noticed  a  change  in  him.  He  had 
lost  his  insolent  assurance  of  manner.  For  in  the  mean- 
time (the  episode  having  lasted  some  hours)  a  wind  of 
what  was  happening  had  blown  into  the  town,  and 
Colonel  Moore  had  sought  the  help  of  the  Clerk  of  the 
Crown  of  Peace,  a  Mr.  Lonsdale,  who  had  demanded  to 
see  the  captain,  informing  him  (in  an  assumption  of 
authority  that  was  fortunately  conceived)  that  he  was  the 

306 


WAR 


responsible  civil  officer  for  the  district,  and  that  with- 
out his  consent  and  presence  no  sentence  could  be 
executed.  He  stated  also  that  he  had  sent  for  the  County 
Inspector  of  Constabulary,  before  whom  he  required  that 
I  should  be  brought. 

By  this  ruse  the  situation  was  saved.  When  I  was 
informed  that  I  was  to  be  taken  to  the  police-barracks  I 
knew  that  the  danger  was  over.  It  had  continued  during 
five  hours.  I  had  been  arrested  at  five  o'clock  and  at 
ten  o'clock  of  a  peaceful  summer's  evening  I  was  liberated 
by  the  County  Inspector,  having  first  been  withdrawn 
by  him  from  the  control  of  the  military. 

§6 

The  episode,  it  will  be  said,  was  but  a  proof  of  mad- 
ness, and  that  is  true,  but  it  was  proof  of  a  madness 
typical  of  the  entire  country.  For  by  this  time  the 
military  were  in  complete  control  and  were  unquestioned 
in  all  their  acts,  the  civil  authorities  having  been  almost 
entirely  displaced.  At  the  beginning  of  the  year  the 
Republican  Government  through  the  I.R.A.  had  been 
the  attacking  party;  but  now  that  Government,  through 
the  departments  which  it  had  created,  however  inter- 
mittently and  even  fragmentarily  those  departments 
were  administered,  had  taken  into  its  hands  much  of 
the  practical  governance  of  the  country;  and  the  conse- 
quence was  that  the  British  Government  became  the 
attacking  party,  and  its  army  was  lifted  above  its  own 
law,  subsisting  as  it  did  in  what  had  now  overtly 
become  a  hostile  country.     I  am  not  now  seeking  to 

307 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    THE    IRISH    WAR 

apportion  blame.  I  am  seeking  but  to  estimate  a  situa- 
tion that  had  occurred.  Much  of  the  terrible,  desperate 
madness  that  was  now  to  range  in  Ireland  was  due 
simply  to  the  effort  to  recapture  by  military  violence 
what  had  been  lost  in  civil  administration. 

Not  that  the  offensive  was  lost  by  the  I.R.A.;  for  that 
offensive  swayed  to  and  fro  during  the  entire  war.  By 
the  end  of  this  year,  1920,  the  I.R.A.  was  formed  in 
what  became  known  as  A.S.U.  (the  Active  Service  Units); 
but  these  were  merely  the  official  formation  of  the  "  fly- 
ing columns "  that  throughout  this  summer  operated  in 
Dublin  and  many  parts  of  the  country  districts.  These 
flying  columns  sought  always  to  trap  the  military  in 
ambushes,  sometimes  inflicting  heavy  losses.  Then  they 
would  melt  away  to  reassemble  in  some  other  place. 
Snared  in  this  way  by  an  unseen  foe,  the  military  re- 
sponded with  reprisals.  In  whatever  district  an  ambush 
occurred,  a  local  factory  or  creamery  was  burned  to  the 
ground  and  the  ugly  ruins  of  burnt  creamery  buildings 
began  to  mark  the  country  side  by  side  with  burnt  police 
barracks. 

As  this  form  of  warfare  developed,  new  forces  were 
created  for  its  better  prosecution.  During  this  summer 
the  Black-and-Tans  came  into  being,  and  they  were 
speedily  followed  by  the  Auxiliaries  as  special  "  shock 
troops."  Space  does  not  permit  here  to  trace  the  course 
of  this  war — how  a  definite  policy  of  reprisals  followed 
a  definite  policy  of  ambushes,  flames  following  upon 
bombs,  till  Ireland  became  more  than  ever  before 
notorious  for  her  ruins,  and  hunters  and  pursued  rapidly 
changed  places  according  as  their  own  good  wits  served 

308 


WAR 


them.  It  is  only  necessary  to  point  out  that  this  warfare 
meant  but  one  thing  and  could  lead  but  to  one  result. 
It  meant  that  external  government  had  ceased  to  be  a 
government,  war  having  taken  its  place,  and  this  in  its 
turn  meant  that  a  truce  must  inevitably  follow,  while  it 
was  resolved  in  what  form,  and  subject  to  what  con- 
ditions, an  internal  government  should  be  set  up  and 
recognized. 

In  July,  1921,  therefore,  that  truce  was  made,  and  as 
a  consequence  the  Free  State  Government  took  the  place 
of  the  Republican  Government,  by  the  will  of  the  Irish 
people. 


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